[The Brisk Day] j u d e
r o d d a
The brisk day starts With me getting up From bed with a shiver. As I walk to school The smell of apple cider Being made with freshly picked apples Fills the air. I look at the ground To see hundreds of thousands Of little leaves Adorned the ground Like ornaments on a tree Red, orange, and even yellow. A brisk gust Wells past my hand. A cold red nose worn by My face so covered By my mask As I near my bus stop
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