Re-births in the air...

you taste the s{t}inging chill
of night in the air - it's fresh faced
wa{l}king onto the plains of day;
By noon its just a hot slow
contemplation, with the world
retreated into the cooler
speculations of the shadows.
And by afternoon's end, when the
autumn coloured sunset
is going down behind blossom
padded trees - serenity descends
and the buddha-wise-smile
comes down, and rolling softly
{feeling without eyes} it places
its head carefully into the flushed
collar-bone of night, and again
that s{t}inging chill is there,
thick and pregnant as
the rebirths in the air.

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