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blue morning (oct 17)

In 100, by Nora on November 13, 2020 at 6:26 pm

my fog-dampened mind is slow blue like the dew-greyed mountains framed in the window at the foot of my bed. incrementally wakening, my body floats among the trees; the slim pliant trunks wave gently, dignified, in the dark. tiny, quivering leaves cling and brush. the blue begins to resolve into three, then four folds in the land before me, the closer a textured emerald, the further unfurling and condensing its own fog. the leaves are greening and yellowing, dappling themselves, painting themselves colors as light begins to creep into my room, lighting my toes, up against the impossibly clear glass.

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