By Glenda | April 11, 2011

Morning prayers

Rising sun and a gentle breeze, a yellow and bronze dew-kissed iris, Celtic, the rustle of new green, soft, in sturdy oaks, scent of honeysuckle from the laden fence, a night-fallen carpet of rose petals, red, that only cat’s feet can tread gingerly enough, scatter of bird sounds, a double handful of plump strawberries ripe […]

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