It's starts with the gentle tumble of water over rocks, a churning toil. Not aggressive more meandering babble. A little Robin calls out , he close by. The tussling of a branch gives away his location. Minutes pass and in the distance his call is answered. His reply is just as sweet, the soundtrack of morning. No traffic can be heard, but the breeze through the trees, birds calling out and the babbling brook making its way through the sleepy little village.
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