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My Favorite Spot

It's 5:30 p.m. - the sun hangs low in the sky. Breezes gently waft across the lawn. The dogs rest - one in the grass with forepaws crossed, the other on the concrete legs askew in the jet position. Birds alight on the branches.


I drag the lawn chairs together - one I sit on, the other I rest my feet. I poise my glasses across my nose, open up the book to the last page read, lean my head against the back of the chair. Aaahh, I'm in my favorite spot.


PVA 2024 09 17

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