Hiding behind the slopes
The glow of ember slowly appears
With the music of dawn.
The first boat is set sail
With the water rippling
In ecstasy
At the touch of the golden beams.
The fog raises the curtains
For an early morning show
With the folk lore
As a background score.
Snaking through the road
Around the hills
I treasure the images
In the rear view mirror
And thank that they are closer
Than they appeared.
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