These lazy days we enjoy so much, lying here in bed with the curtains and window open, summer sun like yellow pastel on paper penetrating the mote-filled air. The rays hit our feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket, temporarily warming us.
If I could rise or help you rise, we'd go to the window and watch the ducks sidling by in the brook, or the otters poking their noses above the surface before submerging. Nothing but stillness in the distance.
What a haven we have for ourselves, our own little heaven here on the farm. The dogs running wild, the cats wilder, the hens huddled in their own little death embraces in the corner of the coop.
These lazy nights we enjoy so much, hot love bleeding out, the moonlight making ghosts of our skin.
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