The glorious sun shakes her head.
The fog lifts.
Day arrives as a dignitary,
in great splendor,
colorful,
dressed in the finest array,
with more promise,
than a politicians' words.
The earth,
kissed by morning dew,
ushers in a symphony,
worthy,
of a Kings' attendance,
I stand.
Small,
among these riches,
transfixed, by
the power,
a new day can bring.
This is hope.


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