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Twenty second. Divided joy

Being merry in anticipation of rainy weather, a flock of crows filled the sky above the park. Cutting pirouettes, shouting “eh” and “uh.”
Well, at least someone rejoices at cold and sleet!
Every dog has his day. Now it is the crow’s turn, not mine.
But picked up by the delight of black birds, I smile and step out. Divided joy is doubly joy.
Maybe, and when I get drunk on my favourite weather, somewhere on top, one crow will smile back.

Author: T. Weingart

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