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At the Pass

The White Mountains appear blue.
Autumn colors are a frame.
I've had a hunger for this view.
Hues of red and yellow are brilliant
like the stars above this north country
on clear moonless nights.
Oak is magnificent.
Holly is the brightest red.
There is evergreen, vivid green,
much a part of the scenic scene.
A white birch stands alone in a field
but it certainly is not felt alone.
The Twin Mountain peaks are fogged
and the highest ridge disappears in clouds.
Bad weather is moving in slowly from the west.
There are trails everywhere.
A hole in the sky suddenly spills sunlight on a slope.
The fall colors suddenly shine out of the darkness.
It is cold at twenty six hundred feet
above New York Harbor
standing on every hiker's real estate.
Everything has become shrouded
by a sudden cloud burst of snow.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
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