The doors are flung open, the crows are talking, with their conversations intermingled with those of the songbirds and doves, a gentle breeze hangs in the air, and no words are spoken. Even my precious canine is still asleep under the covers. He gets it.
The whispering of the magic fills me from the tips of my soul and touches your soul with that damn grin. I have seen that grin on your face. You know that grin like a child with a secret, and use those in between spaces to conceal the truth, knowing that other person will get it. And that is ...