The golden sunrise across the lake.
The frost is cold and ready to break.
The soft growing fluttering of wings,
Above my head as though they sing.
They fly to themselves as reflection upon the water.
Their feet break into the flat and clear.
Causing millions of ripples to appear.
They land one by one until they’re all done.
Feeding and resting upon the open liquid, alone.
Waiting for the time of departure, as it grows near.
The leader flaps his wings,
Lifts himself and creates a crystal chandelier.
In unison they all raise,
To begin their journey.
Their journey of life, upon the sunrise.
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