November 27- December 1 Week 44 /72
I wake to prowl with the night creatures
seeking the promise of the eclipsing beaver moon
but the edge of an approaching storm has already arrived
thick clouds cloaking the magic happening high above
as the full moon sweeps through the Earth's shadow
the dim light of the soon to be rain-soaked day
emerges while waves of a southern born wind
rhythmically erase reflections of the dusty grey sky
sharp, blurred, sharp, blurred, then gone all together
riding on concentric rings of the first drops of falling rain
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