Morning In the nook of this morning there is the urge for busyness and meaning. But the golden has just hopped between two humans musing about the sun. How difficult, she thinks, to be so thoughtful. Her neck cranes downward toward the dirty floorboards
Morning
Morning
Morning
Morning In the nook of this morning there is the urge for busyness and meaning. But the golden has just hopped between two humans musing about the sun. How difficult, she thinks, to be so thoughtful. Her neck cranes downward toward the dirty floorboards