for small mellowings,
a little less edge to the heat,
a welling of happiness
softening the ragged edge of torment,
a day to be less driven from within,
to enjoy putterings
and how the moments knit themselves together
constantly, in wind rustles
and insect buzzing
and the contented chirping
of a few small birds
living, as always, for joy,
joying, as always, in life.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2018
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