For what human ill does not dawn seem to be an alleviation?
Early fall mornings often begin obscured – the low fog clings to the moist ground, creating a muted reality of muffled sound and distorted distance.
My head feels just like this when I first wake. I struggle to shake loose of cloudiness and clear my vision so I can take on the day.
Clarity doesn’t come from within.
The dawn burns off the fog, renders and refines landscape colors, separates light from shadow. I too must become part of the solution instead of clouded with precipitate.
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