Sunday morning – Sweden
Late November Sunday morning – Sweden
Sun comes . . . straight at me
Parallel above the frosted yards
This momentary blinding light
Spears through my window.
Never seen the sun like this
Stays horizontal . . . hovering
It circles the horizon
Passing by, not passing over
Sometimes hard blue skies
Above what is already arctic cold
The air so fresh and clear
It almost hurts to breath
Exhilarating if it doesn’t kill you
This is only the beginning here
Soon snow will fall
It will get colder
I look forward to it.
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