becomes a glow,
and the sun rises,
crowning above a hill like a tumulus.
The stout window panes
fill with gold dust.
Encouraged, aroused,
the fire licks and spits
in the cast-iron hearth.
A filament of spider's web
slides and glistens
just outside the window.
The birds sing!
They sing at this sudden
orgy of impermanence.
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