Saturday, May 27, 2023

Morning Time

A stout, robust orange-breasted robin hopped a lot along the ground. I passed him by as I moved, taking long strides in the morning. The grass was long and fell across itself. All the better for worms. A light rain had soaked the earth and the air smelled fresh. The leaves whispered on the trees, shaking off the dew with each breeze. The dark red maple tree was remarkably bright. 

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Proper

There is no proper time to make a proper edit to this page of life No sentence unscathed which behooves itself to avoid run-on No gerund to ...