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Rated: E · Poetry · Biographical · #2173958
A ride I once took through the wilds of North Dakota and into Minn...
Beauty is in subtlety.
Jet black morning
slowly rolls away.
Eastward early rays
fail to penetrate early gloom.

Low-beamed headlights
illuminate painted road lines
disappearing mere inches ahead.
We low-speed march south
to the Interstate.

I hunch over steering wheel
in the quiet dawn,
fearing moving animals
wandering onto pavement.
True dawn does not come.

We reach four-lane concrete;
silent, low on traffic.
Vanquishing barely thinning fog,
the early rays
start to reach tired eyes.

Green fields and valleys
are revealed; a curtain
is opened by magic hand.
Gossamer drapes part;
beauty riding a misty current.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2173958