Seagulls dart about effortlessly, an osprey glides over the water in its calm and melancholic dance, inspecting the water for any flashing object just below the surface.
A congregation of geese dangles amens, their loud cackling and screeching raising in concert as if the devil himself had appeared in front of them…
Windsor dashes about from side to side looking fruitlessly for the bunnies who supposedly live in the tall grasses besides the path. Somehow he doesn’t tug on the leash while doing this, checking over his shoulder to make sure I am following.
The asphalt beneath my soles, slick and slippery, moistened by this sudden fog.
70 degrees on January 4th, in what used to be zone 7 temperate planting climate. Another sign of the coming warming…
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