This moment is real.
The spring air is cool, still, and transfixing.
Oh, how I love The Quiet.
Have I ever told you that, Dear Reader?
Because The Quiet is alive.
The tick-tock of the cuckoo clock reminds me that time waits for no one.
Unidentifiable birds call to each other across the yard.
The Fur Babies’ water fountain trickles away, to ensure a fresh gulp is at the ready.
The ice cubes clink against the glass as I enjoy another sip in solitude.
I perch upon the porch for a handful of minutes. The morning sun has never felt better; my skin relishes its power.
This is The Perfect Moment.
I am alive.
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