The leaves under my feet crunch like potato chips.
Chirp, chirp, chirp, the twittering of birds punctuates the day, dropping nature's beat.
A lawn-mower grinds in the distance.
The twitter of a hidden bird diva competes with the rhythmic chirp of the plain brown birds nestled in the rustling leaves of the tree.
My own sigh startles me in the quiet of the midday.
I sit down, not wanting to disturb the sanctuary that so many creatures call their world.
This is nothing like the electronic matrix I come from.
If you listen, even the grass whispers the knowledge of the ages.
A splash from across the watery grotto calls my attention to a mid-sized, brown duck gliding silently through the water.
I hear that same water lapping at the edge of the lake with a power that this peaceful scene has kept hidden in the murky bowels of the lake.
Swoosh, a stronger breeze cuts through my reverie.
Whoosh, the trees dance in the moving air.
Krish, wish, splat, the duck flaps its wings in the water.
Splashing back at the wind that broke through the calm, still day.
A lonely cricket sings for the memory of a summer gone by.
Silence settles over the water once again.
A sacred silence, unadulterated...
Save for the light, overbearing hum of harried motorists on a highway somewhere near by.
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