Sunday Morning


  
   The air is cool, sweatshirt weather. Standing at my door, I hear a bird, just one, I think. If there are more, they are polite and don’t interrupt one another. Then an angry crow tells everybody to be quiet. A nearby air conditioning unit is laboring, but my open door keeps the apartment cool this morning, and it’s quieter. The breeze rustles the leaves and pushes the clouds along. The sky is a dingy gray, but now and then some blue appears, and the sun pops out and the sky seems to be clearing, until it fills with clouds again.
   Nature can’t decide what to do this Sunday. And neither can I. But the cool air, the breeze, the birds and a cup of coffee give the day a promising start.

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