Waypoints

By lesmark

Stillness

It was a cloudless morning, just a milky white sky, a gentle breeze until late afternoon when the rain arrived as forecast.

I wrote birthday cards to my brother and nephew who share the same birth day to put in the post on my walk into the village.  I was dismayed at how slow and bad my handwriting has become, like a spider walked over the paper. If you don't use it, you lose it, they say.

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