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December 1: Angorath

December 1: Angorath

Quiet morn lain brisk and slow

Nights wane longer, flights fly low

White frost billows cast the snow

Winter saunters, and ends the show

Laughter drips in star-crossed glee

Droves of wonder, eyeless sea

Fruits of time in berry tree

Frozen thunder, a buzzing bee

Slouching onward snowcap forms

Fur clad safety, softly warm

Howl the moon then wake the morn

Clatter hoofbeat, a ramming horn

Stoking blaze once crackled high

Smoke-rock campground, kindling dry

Buttered chocolate served with sigh

Huddled newborn, a cheerful cry

Ghost and grayfolk dance the rain

Swing these lovers, known no pain

Barefoot chill-heart hunger flame

Sweat amore, locked in twain

This is the end

This is the end

But this is the pulse

Where beats begin

Ladies’ elder faith restored

Worlds remembered

Time ignored

Herald six with last uproar:

“Our November!”

And nothing more.

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