Morning In Mayberry 

I’m sitting here, on this cold morning, listening to the lightest rain. The simple beauty of that sound overwhelms me. 

All is still, beyond my window, with the exception of a little squirrel. It’s been darting back and forth for an hour or two. I called out to it, once, as it scurried by. The lil critter stopped very quickly and, for a moment, he looked right back at me. I suppose I’m not very interesting to him, as he went, once more, on his way. He may have even rolled his eyes, but I can’t be certain. 

In spite of the weather, a few birds are out, chirping back and forth to one another. I’d love to know what they’re discussing. Their world is so vast and lovely. It would be amazing to live as they do. How deliriously freeing it would be to fly high above the mess that is humanity, and all that we’ve created; to have the option to not so much as look upon it, or take part in it, in any way. 

We humans can be so arrogant, at times. We forget that anything you can own can be taken away, and spend lifetimes chasing after material things. But, the lil critters beyond my window will have none of that. They know that the world is already theirs.

Even on the most dreary of days, Mayberry cannot help but reveal its beauty…

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