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Nighttime and the winds are cool

  Each night finds me in more or less the same place, similar posture, engaged in seemingly identical chore or work; even though it's a new night each night, yet it's pretty much the same. 

The only thing that sets apart these moments of bromidic uniformity is the fluid presence of immeasurably lovely words plastered in the obscure expanse of virtual nest. 

 A copper nest, honey tinted and rapture laced. Diaphanous space where hearts breathe and souls breed.