Rise to Wake

Crisp and warm,
all in the earths bundle of a
Sunday morning.

Rises like these,
I remember waking to
church frills and curled hair.

Now as adult, I sit on gravel
country road
drinking in the suns bed head growl.

The geese sound their way
through open, clear sky.
I am pine, spruce and fresh air.
I am awake.

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