Wayward thoughts: Morning Moon

This is not the sun. It is the moon. The last one of the year. Seems to be reluctant to leave. A bird flies ahead. What if the moon had wings?

Except for this morning moon, the scene is usually the same every day. Or, maybe not. The underconstruction structure will be a building; the building at a distance will need new paint; the trees will grow or get pruned; the cable wire will connect more people who might never know each other.

I trust this moon. I know how it feels about leaving…I know…

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