Small Stone for 22 September, 2018

stoneThe sun is still drowsing in bed while the new day, a fuzzy shawl of low grey clouds thrown on over its nightgown, pauses on the threshold of Autumn.  I’m already up and puttering in the kitchen, inadvertently eavesdropping on a mourning dove having a quiet little boohoo on the roof behind the range hood vent pipe . . .

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