The Transmutation
The dust dappled panes of window
glass shiver,
in their winter finery of frost crystals.
Elaborate patterns form,
lace-like in their elegance;
cloaking the everyday remnants
of drearier days.
And, as the morning sun rises higher
in the cotton batten sky,
the finery transmutes, tears form;
streaking the dirty face of dawn.
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