I call this a bug on a rug. It was a hot August day, that redolent heavy summer kind of day, when the fruit is over ripe, the bees swarm lazily and the air is full of something like heavy sunshine. It is hard to remember those days, as we come out of the heart of darkness we know as winter. Each day will be longer by a fraction of an hour, until you are no longer waking in the darkness. The light will return from it's winter hibernation and we will wake like sleepers from a dream to greet the sun of spring.
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