Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings.
Victor Hugo, French author and statesman (1802–1885)
From my rooftop perch just before sunset, I delight in all the activity of the final hour of light. The shepherd, who visits this same patch at sunrise, brings his small flock for a final munch.
The farmer drives up on his motorcycle and takes a look at his land. Today he brought a small sickle and trimmed the lower leaves of the yearling banana plants.
And the path across the way is well trod as people make their way home at a pretty quick pace. While all this activity bustles on all sides of my perch, a hundred birds sing praises to the day. Cheers!
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