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Unpacked by dawn, the newborn day lies still, it takes it's first breath, breeze disturbs the haze, faint sunlight cuts a path from up the hill, soaks out the nightly shades of blues and greys. Daylight reveals the boats along the cut their hulls adorned with swirling script and flowers, picnic chairs on the prow are folded shut 'till next their owners while away the hours. Inside, still sleeping, different folk reside, newly retired, the boat their final home or weekenders from busy lives here hide to cast off, then to further reaches roam. Though different, the same calm water calls this is the common bond that binds them all. I smell fried bacon- someone else awoke to take advantage of this precious time, two dog walkers pass by, though neither spoke, at six the distant village church bells chime. Along the cut sounds as the crews are roused, not yawns, but whistling kettles, clattering plates, a Spaniel pads out onto the bow anticipating breakfast, sits and waits. To fetch fresh water someone steps ashore acknowledging a wave with tip of hat, nearby ducks snaffle bread and beg for more, while watched with hungry eyes by someone's cat. The helmsmen scan the sky while drinking tea, all smiles knowing just how the day will be. For me a privilege to share these days time slowing to a crawl, no need to make it, you see the blissful calm in all their ways, cherish every heartbeat when they take it. De-cluttered lives, these people travel light and in my mind I wish that I could too, they say that they are happy and they're right, so little but enough to see them through. Their back yard they can change when they see fit, new neighbours but all still one family, and gracious to let me be part of it though soon I return to reality. The reed beds saw me off as they all gave a long, wind-blown, rustling Mexican wave. For contest 'The perfect day', sponsor Madison Demetros November 21, 2017
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