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     Ah, breakfast time on a morning in spring is the time you stre-e-etch and yawn under white sheets blazing in a brightening sun that rises earlier and earlier. A time of silent smiles on the faces of children as they plot their day. A time of contentment for the young marrieds who have a few free moments for each other when fresh sun wakes them happier than it had during the darker winter.
     By this hour the oldest lady in the house is bustling around the kitchen, weaving a tapestry of running water, clanking kettles, and rattling silverware which winds up the stairs and crawls up to your ears as you toast under warm sheets.
     Crystal dew on the grass seems perfumed as the damp breezes drift through the newly put up screens on the windows. The dark earth crawls with worms and other succulent spring-things.
     It feels good to lie abed, but it feels even better to spring into the waiting slippers and slap-slap to a shower which is partially dried by the impertinent wind that invades the privacy of your bathroom. It's a time of appetites: for living, for fresh-fried bacon, for cold wet dirt under bare feet, for humming in the street as the sun magnetizes the leaves on the trees---drawing them up and out to the skies.
     You feel so good that after sloshing mint toothpaste industriously over your teeth, you gargle wide-mouthed with joy until someone more adult, yet smiling AT you and WITH you on this fine morning, shouts, "Hey! Now stop that and get down here for breakfast!"