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The first day of April
dawns grey
with a chill in the air.
I stand barefoot
on the concrete of my back garden,
hands wrapped around a lifeline of coffee,
shielding from the cold rising through my feet.
I breathe deep and exhale with a smile,
this month of words is wide open,
mine, ours, a new goal to hit.
A new literary start,
broad skies, blank pages,
excitement in a cloud of possibility.
I breathe in again,
turn eyes to the grey sky,
and begin.