A Tolstoy Act

Long sunny days softly swaying around our anchor, turning this way, warm rays sweep across the galley, now this way, a breeze lifts specks of fragrant dust off the basil leaves, with nothing to do. But reading until the elbows are sore, contemplating, gazing, birdsong listening, birdname guessing, shore inspecting, eye squinting, tiny swallows skirting over the water, bird spotting! And some…