#4239 poetry

At the threshold of the cold season, grey and often a little sad, I try to look at what surrounds me in a different way and I am surprised by what I see.

The air was damp

But it was not raining.

The cool wind cleared my thoughts

in the undergrowth behind the cathedral.

Frozen fingers.

Good heavens ! Iwould never stop learning.

And even though it was damp and cold

the moment was beautiful.

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