Soulful Ride

Rolling along at dusk on my way home, through lowlands with symphonies of peepers. Their communication a cacophony of bells, windchimes, chirps and whistles ushering in spring. Our planet, tilted just right, the unseen sun cast shadows on clouds, flashes of heat lightning making the night sky a gallery of Picasso, Monet, Morisot, juxtaposed on a light show. Pungent smells of onion grass mixed with soil liberated from winters blanket, and backyard barbecues cooling in the night air. Coming home, the house is dark, one candle lit, Steve on the phone laughing and smiling, the dogs snoring at his feet, the smell of Bristol still on my shirt…just when I thought the evenings sights, sounds and smells couldn’t get any better…

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