Egrets present an white ephemeral flash when seen distantly astride their wetland turf. No one who knows them would say egrets talk too much. That storky creature by itself in the muddy realm looks too insular. Maybe they are agnostics or on the spectrum. Everyone has their hobby horse of restriction. We all understand that birds must eat something, even if it is anything. Our Eagle friend looks like no connoisseur. Egrets seem chuff with their feet in the mud, snapping up whatever tidbit in reach. Workers of the world, take a look at yourself. Do you do better than this monstrance in your transaction of the daily deal? Life creates a buttress for non-life. Drouthy summers flatten egret odds. Human error of global proportion, oh well. Morsels lack freshness or existence in the mortal mud dedicated into time loss time. The birds stand by erect and noble in the notwithstanding of marsh.
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