Awakening At Garnet Lake
The Kelty one-man tent flaps face Ritter
The night is me and the Sierran darkness
As no moon reflects upon the granite
Cold sun touches its light upon the high peaks
As mist lingers layered against the slopes
I remain in my bag to await warmth
A bear walks past my tent and looks in
We find our own kind in each other, and
Awaken to our illusory lives.
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