Year like a day.
It starts at midnight, in the middle of the dead,
the dark, the cold, the Winter.
And yet, there’s a romanticism
to the eerie silence and the feeling of privacy.
Just as you start to tire of the bleak, the dull,
the sun rises and gives way to the morning.

Morning, Spring of the day.
Everything is fresh, new, full, bright.
Life is just beginning to warm up.
A bridge between dark and light, Winter and Summer.
Dawn sheds it’s fresh skin to start the day.
The Summer.

The day is bright, warm, fill of life.
There’s a playfulness,
the bright of day gives you cheer,
it gives you hope and zest.
The zest dies down into dusk.
The Fall.

The rest before the night.
The winding down before the closing call.
The Fall of the day.
It’s comforting, still warm,
losing light but keeping a soft glow.
Then, the Fall gives into Winter,
the night and the darkness take hold.

Cradling you once again.

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