a little bit of imagining

A bluebird once flew up onto a treehouse and sang.  It was absolutely marvelous.  No people were around to hear the bird’s song.  Perhaps that made the song even sweeter.  But not like cake and cookies sweet; like fresh strawberries sweet – the good and refreshing kind.  Yes, that kind of sweet is the right kind of sweet.  It was wonderfully sweet and quite marvelous, indeed.  The world is grateful for your lovely song, dearest bluebird, whom no person saw no heard on that lovely day of song atop the treehouse.
Post-a-day 2017

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