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The Pond
The bird flew to and fro, twittering happily in liveliness as it gingerly landed on a wooden fence. As I lay prone on the grass, I took in the sight of a tree gently oscillating back and forth in the wind, feeling the freshly cut grass beneath my body, breathing in the sweet aroma of lolling leaves, lulling me into a nice, contemplative peacefulness. But the buzzing gnat flittered in and out of my range-- bringing me out of my stupor-- and eventually landed on a smooth pebble, resting there for a couple of seconds before it resumed fluttering in the wind. The herd of Canadian geese wobbled across the road, like a toddler just learning how to walk, teetering and tottering from side to side. This comedy was not seen by the fish, as it broke the surface of the pond, sending ripples through the water, only to return back to swimming absentmindedly deep down in its abyss. As the breezy wind gently clenched and unclenched its fingers around me, I relished the staccato chirping of the crickets as I basked in the golden glow of the setting sun.
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