The sun is rising over Cascade peaks.
Mount Baker is showing her face.
The moon is slipping away in the West.
The morning’s stepping up its pace.
Bright sky promises a crisp, cold day.
Frosted grass says the cold will stay.
Things that grow have settled to rest.
Winter’s here in the Far Northwest.
I can see the beauty in my mind’s eye and feel the crisp air on my cheeks.
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