Owlsquatch Chronicles

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Nine,I take a seat. The morning sun highlights the dust dancing through the air,As soft rhythms form sweet melodies through my head. Just past the window a young squirrel leaps between trees,Cheeks chubby with new spring seeds. Breath in,Cool scent of lavender stirs life into my sleepy lungs. Breath out,Muscles relax into the soft fabric beneath me. Nine thirty,Sorry to keep you waiting sir. No problem,I wasn’t waiting.