Their Sunday Morning Meditation

He breathed deeply as he jogged on the
trails near the dunes
along the Big Water. Stepping over roots,
on hard ground, listening
to the sound of the wind in the pines and
the squirrels jumping along
the woodland floor and up the trunks of oaks
screeching from branch
to branch at the intruder in their midst.
He stops on the bridge over
the pond, meets and greets his wife who had
jogged in the opposite direction
arriving back at the designated time — their
morning meditation complete.


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