7/15/25 6:00 54f (12.2c) The moon, no longer full, floats behind a birch. The sky is featureless and blue. A lone sprayer lumbers through the trees somewhere up on Swyers Drive, its progress marked by noise, roaring as it approaches, fading to a whine when it retreats back up the rows. Walter is chatting with a neighbor’s dog. I sip my tea and wait for the sun to rise.
A robin just buzzed me – so low his left wingtip brushed my hair. I felt the breeze stirred by his flight.












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