The Early Morning Light
Pale shapes against the birthing sky
stooped figures veiled by the gloom
hands in pockets.
Men in contrite circles murmur.
Weary voices expire into the chill.
Plumes of white; angels escaping.
The face of the sign.
A flap of cardboard
warped through the linked fence.
The sky settles.
Long chimneys disappear into the ceiling of clouds.
The echoing building
The Men come forward
From the fence.
Fading into the Gloom.
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