I stumbled out of the studio a bit before dawn.
The sky and air were a blackened lavender
punctuated with bits of gold.
The street smelled like yule log and fresh crescent rolls,
as the bakery up the block was waking up for the day.
The Christmas lights in the square had long since been turned off,
but then they were still alive,
reflecting the street lamps and the few cars passing through,
twinkling in the trees,
casting off bits of borrowed light.
It was a beautiful morning.
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