all crisps. all reflecting the morning sun.
all branches are still. my morning call, the music i chose, echos.
a breeze tickles and wakens the leaves.
it shines light on the web a spider made during the night. never breaking to the breeze.
it is shining in the distance like a forest fairy's tight rope.
the branches wave and i say hello back.
i'm pretty sure this is what it feels to be irie.
written wednesday 3, october 2012. at 9:40. photo taken is my backyard.
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