The morning air cold, but feeling like a friend.
I went to see teh fire tenders, those stoic mothers.
Always handing out wise words, kitchen words, put on your jacket words.
Watch out for bramble words, keep the fires bright words.
They gave me soup, which was a set of words all on its own.
Stardust words, nourishing words, just the right words I needed on this brisk, once again, new day.
Cary Lane
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