It Makes Sense Here

It makes sense here. The waters are high from the precipitous summer; the rocks and pebbles shine brighter, constantly polished beneath the surface. Clear as far as one can see and still as my own heart becomes when this Autumn morning sun gently bathes my sorrowful face. But it is no day for troubling oneself more than we already tend to do, far too frequently. Stop and breathe somewhere quiet. Listen to more than your worries; Oh, believe me, I know how immense shouldering thoughts can be. Look a little longer. There are two ducks chatting as they sail effortlessly beneath the single hawk who harasses two smaller birds in flight. Flitting, carrying on like Everything is working just fine. Ah, and it does. Oh, how it will.

Fish Lake, Yukon.

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