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Paw At

Your last damage report demurred and made damn sure the underwrite noted your tendency to overwrought your second
thoughts on the pleasures of casual company

Like me and my puppy and a Great Lake sunrise on a mid July
humid morning…
motionless except for dripping sweat and a back and forth swearing match between old hat fishermen and castaway seagulls.

And you clear your throat between sips of coffee, annoyed at the stand still tide, that sum of Sun that lords it over a lakeshore high-rise congregation, and the cut-rate cut to the chase waste of your current dream state. Now featuring reruns.

And the puppy notes.

Nights have been longer ..No More

And the day begins behind tomorrow’s plea for the shade a
Sinner needs to camouflage yesterday’s carnage, healthy havoc.

I have a question. Or two. Has the world spun the fun out of a new day, a jet-lag for just us; those who juice on the ruse of revelation, and revolution, and resolve to make amends for the day previous.

Nights have been longer ..No More

Query Two. I’m too weary to wonder anymore. And you? Do you?Marvel at morning, gape at daybreak, maze what’s possible, feel free to feel and appeal to what’s next?

No. Not anymore.

Nights have been longer ..No More

One comment
  1. I hope I’m never too weary to wonder, though I don’t do much of it in the morning anymore. Sunset on a mountain peak is more my thing.

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