Spring Daydream

The clanging of my wind-chime in the mild spring breeze is reminiscent of an old metal cowbell.  For a moment, I am transported back in time 150 years, driving the brown Herefords home in the evening with my willow switch.  The gonging of the bells at their necks mingles with the girls’ lowing and the thump of their hooves on the path with each step.  My pink dress swishes gently against my legs, my bare feet make barely a sound as I step lightly on the soft dirt.  I am joyful and content in my chore, happy to be outside and in the quiet companionship of the cows.

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Suddenly, I’m brought back to the present as a motorcycle whines down the road.  After years of wishing I’d been born in a different era, I will finally admit that I’m glad I’m alive in the one I was born in, with modern conveniences and feelings of security.

But I can’t help but daydream sometimes…

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