It's wicked to mock the afflicted

A perfect life is an impossibility, but perfect moments do come. I had all the windows open and was cleaning the house while listening to a Charles Mingus CD. I was quite content tidying the house for the gaggle of italians and other sundry foreign nationals that were coming over tonight. When the CD ended I heard two children's voices mimicing the song that just played. They were riding their bicycles in a circle around the Sikh temple's parking lot improvising their own jazz with 'doot-doo doos' and 'dee-dee-dees'. It was a beautiful sight. They just kept going around in a circle singing the saxophone sounds into the empty sky oblivious to everything but their joyful song and their peddling feet. It was perfect.