I sit alone on the wide, pebbled verandah. A vibrant, golden-leaved maple stands nearby, its top rising nakedly out of the yellow glory like a different tree altogether. On a straight, lower limb a grey squirrel reclines, balancing easily though the branch is smaller than it. The squirrel closes its eyes as the warm, autumn sun warms its fur; it stretches out a jittery front leg for balance when a light breeze stirs its resting place. I ponder the harmony and peace inspired by this small, resting creature and the golden leaves complementing the bright blue of the cloudless sky.
But does the water love us back
2 hours ago