My head is swimming with
Last night’s red wine, but
I get up before time, wearing
Old cast-offs, stumble
Down the footpath that tumbles
Through the almond groves to
The mist dragging the lake
Fresh kissed from its
Fresh kissed from its
Watery slumber, ice-cold
When I dip my toe in, I
Bunch my fists, and take the
Morning plunge.
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