Damp and dreary morn

feeling naked

wind bullies the rain

thorny branches

rips tender skin.

Finally back stoking a fire.

Stoked about Christmas in the woods.

Alone and hiding from the main street.

Loneliness? not to worry.

He has himself to talk to.

Limps to the fireside chair,

a view of the hillside rising,

a stack of books and a Bible.

rain looks in the window

as he nods back.

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