When the evening is drawing in & I lay back on my favorite porch recliner, I hear the flowing of the water fall from the fountain underneath my window pane & I watch the Robins & the Jenny Wrens flutter back & forth & call to one another like they are saying " this is my spot for the night !! " I make promises to my self in the twilight of the evening that tomorrow when the fog is still lying low like a blanket covering my town , that I will go out for a long walk underneath the morning fog & have the dew kiss my face with each step. I know it does I walked it before in time past, I know how exuberant I felt when I arrived back home, I miss this, but what is stopping me from going under the umbrella of morning fog & kisses of the dew? I think at times if I shall start it will be a life time to continue, I am afraid I cannot continue every day so therefore I roost but never take flight as the Robins or the Jenny Wrens.