Down by the farmer's fields this morning ,the
wind was brisk and cold. The ice on the puddles was thicker, our breath a bit
visible , as, with some unexpected company, we walked and tossed the ball high ,
watching a buttery- bellied young Broadwing hawk swoop by, breakfast in their
mouth.
Overhead , small bits of feathery clouds swept by a clear and swift river.
All about us were sprouts of greens, insisting upon coming up, no matter whether we have a surprise snow, now that it's Spring.
The elegant willows everywhere sported golden buds all along their long stately branches, as we slowly veer toward warm.
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