Song for a Site

It.

Is.

Cold.

Leaves rustle.

Traffic purrs.

Birds tweet.

Lost becomes litter.

I look in,

My reflection looks out.

Fractured trees dance on the breeze.

A methodical pace changes pitch.

A cough echoes.

Grey light permeates.

Laughter bounces like the break of a pool game.

It.

Is.

Cold.

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