The shroud of winter's dull surrender
Clings just inside the doorway
Where the warm promise of summer
Is spent freely in the crackle of autumn wood.
Light, dying, is the best for new beginnings
Shadows are allowed, encouraged to dance
Teasing with possible probables
Promising nothing, delivering illusion.
And beneath a banner of studied courtesy
Lay a hazy dragon of flesh-hot majesty
Dreaming, lucid, watchful and filled with the
Venom of dangerous, gypsy, imagination.
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