I swear the scarlet pimpernel is singing to me; but, it's only a sparrow trilling in a tree.
The lawn has been cut around me and the fresh mown grass entices me to rise.
But, unlike Maya Angelou, I will rest a while until a stray raindrop plops on my eyes.
Only then will I flick my tongue and taste the air. Only then will I slither away.
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