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The Symphony

I heard their calls again this evening.

Momma accompanied me on a walk, despite the hour. Then together we sat, in front of the house, in silence—save for the symphony around us. The rhythmic base of the bullfrog. The high-pitched trill of cicadas.  The sound of our own breathing.

Under our moon, she comforted me, while I did my best to tap into the life forces around us—hoping to imbue myself with their energy, if only to steal a few more hours.

“Pup,” she said to me. “I love you ‘till the ends of the earth.”

I put my head in her lap to tell her it will be okay. The fireflies are out tonight. But they have kept a respectful distance.

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