A light snow had fallen overnight leaving a half an inch for a small gathering of black-capped chickadees to hustle and frolic in. The small birds seemed to enjoy the season’s first snowfall as they exhibited a style of energy that suggested pure happiness. The morning sun beamed into the fresh snow and gathered itself in a glowing of the land that illuminated the birds as they flitted from snowy ground, to tree branch, back to snow. The birds left tiny marks where they had landed and hopped. From his porch, he whistled to them in their particular bird song. They didn’t call back. Not yet anyway. And that was fine too. He had his morning coffee in hand and this view of life to observe. The coffee, a bit too hot, steamed mightily, adding to the perfection of his morning.
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