that feeling: when you’re

content in your surroundings

nothing is desired

Labor Day weekend 

no place to go, relaxing

slippered feet propped up

Mississippi roast 

in the slow cooker, dinner

ready at seven

three dogs chewing treats 

from rescue to royalty

spoiled in every way

husband on the Deere

out mowing the funny farm

smell of fresh-cut grass

comfortable chair 

reading a series of books

fragrant candle glows

afternoon sunlight

hazy beams stream through windows 

can time just stand still? 

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