Day 47: When Canadian Chicken Fly

I watched a beautifully isolated sunset tonight, shimmering a coppery gold and an infinitely indefinable red, through the last of the lingering storm clouds responsible for the most recent spring rains before it dissipated gradually into the depths of a far-off Midwestern horizon.  I sat alone on that grassy little hill overlooking the wistfully fickle creek that runs comfortingly by my small blue house and simply stole the time out of my day to just stop and watch the sky. It took a bit to try and ignore the mechanical sounds of the humming traffic, busy running their post rush hour pulse through the asphalt and concert arteries that help sustain the life and rhythm here in the City of Wayne.  But I finally surrendered myself …

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