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Patio morning


One note at a time ring the chimes hanging behind me from the pergola. Background to the bird chatter. The train rumbles through the little town of Stockholm, and the low humming of its wheels gradually fades away. A moment of silence, still as the air as all and everything hushes and breathes deep.
Ears ring in the quiet.
A fly buzz. The whirr of humming bird wings as the irredescent bird pauses for a moment before my face. Now the birds resume their calls. A rooster at the nearby farm declares it morning. Cows shriek their complaints. Feed me. Milk me. Hurry. Hurry. An airplane crosses the sky, too high above the rising haze to see. Another overhead heading in the opposite direction.
The wind chimes stirs and the single notes reverberate to nothing. Single notes, A flat minor, a chord. The rooster. A vehicle on gravel. A bird chirp. Trill. Song. Another train, a warning whistle. Motorcycle whine. Woodpecker on the old cottonwood tree.
The incessant rooster insists. I am awake! Wake up. Its light. Its morning. The birds hidden in trees agree. The chorus builds, voice by voice. Louder. Louder. Urgent. Insistent.
Then a pause. A single note from the wind chimes begins it all again.

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