Milling About and Mulling It Over


Milling about.

Mulling things over.

Not something I am known for.

But fortunate me.

I haven’t far to go to find basic reverie.

Fur lined logs.

One size, does not fit all.

Plodding about in myths of greener pastures.

Happily unaware of the here…and, hereafter.

 

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