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By Albert Ahearn

Sitting alone on a park bench surrounded by natural beauty that only I can appreciate at this moment in time. Oh, there are occasional intruders in this beautiful place, a few joggers with their MP3’s hanging from their ears, lost in a world of music and running on automatic pilot. They pass through this wonderland in a flash and miss the performance only a sojourner like me perceives: The shifting breeze that blows through the surrounding trees. I watch them slow-dance to a score that was written on the wind and only they can hear the composition they dance to. A long-eared rodent enters the green dance floor and does his version of the bunny hop, stops to see if anyone is watching and continues his dance unabated. A chorus of unseen red-breast thrushes sing their familiar early morning rendition of “It’s a beautiful morning” while two male cardinals flyby warbling their version. A house sparrow alights my bench and looks at me and cocks its head, left,then right, As if to say, what are you doing here? then flies off into the trees behind me. A squirrel scampers onto the scene and becomes aware of my presence and decides to head back whence it came. Taking that cue, I realized that I had overstayed my visit and it was time to leave. “Natural Beauty” Now playing, Act one, scene one One brief performance.

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