This fountain stands in a plaza in Old Town and this morning, while Alan and I walk the square, local birds play and preen in the droplets.
Birds enjoy the water but they don’t have soap dishes or towels. Water runs off their backs but their melodies sound better than my shower singing.
From their chirping you wouldn’t think they have a care in the world, and, these two, right now, don’t.
And, at the moment, neither do we.