It is Sunday morning.
Sun squeezes through delicate spider webs by an old stump.
Water seeps through screw holes in the tin roof of the guest house.
Children sing songs at Ms. Sue’s.
When you have little, you are happy with what little you have.
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Great post…one of my favorites!
Hmmm, this is a good one. That music!
thanks for visiting. it was a memorable morning.