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■ The oak
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The fragrant smell on the summer breeze.
The hussle and bustle of squirrels in trees. I feel the warm air against my skin. A spider spinning her web so thin . The collage of color before my eyes. The flowers of beauty insects they hide. A bird sings sweetly to his prospective mate. She hears his song and investigates. A horse in the meadow shakes his head. beckoning his mare to rise from her bed. Picture the scene down by the stream Fish in clear waters their colors pristine. Just a walk in the park taking a stroll. I sit on this bench and eat my cheese roll. chris
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