The Don Valley trail, Sunday.
Hot sun, bare trees. Amazing 
that all this is barely a fifteen minute walk from my front door, in downtown Toronto.
I sat here, in a bed of dead stinging
nettles, watching the river flow, and especially listening. 'Burbling' is a good word.
A beaver was swimming here
once. And another time a deer,
wading. Not in winter, though.
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