Soon the sun will rise above those trees at the top of the hollow, sending bright life giving light down to dry the dew in the meadow along the creek.
Soon the sunlight will pass through these trees around the meadow turning into angel’s fingers dancing across the flowers, touching every dew drenched petal and leaf and transforming a common green field into a magic carpet of sparkling rhinestones.
Everywhere hang garlands seemingly tossed casually like discarded diamond necklaces draped between the stems of the taller plants.
You can see this, and feel this too, if you know where to stand and look.
I can show you, but only if you come here early in the morning to the place I call Happy Hollow.
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