The smell of baking Amish friendship bread kept me from going immediately to sleep.
I ate a piece on my back porch with the ones I love, under the moon.
The air is starting to cool enough to make me believe it really is fall,
but cicadas and tree frogs still sing despite the chill.
I fed the crust of my bread to a beagle named Shorty
and said a prayer of thankfulness for beauty in the
quiet, simple moments.
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