Down by the farmers fields it was dark and
rainy
the sweet Spring pungence of wet earth
and new wild blossoms on the wind.
We ran some and walked some and ball threw a lot, and then he made up wild animal things as he seems to do, and then went thundering through the underbrush like a dark flash.
So I went along myself, relishing the broadening leaves and the full racing river and the flat open farmland and blossoming limbs all about.
As the underbrush surged up with fresh growth and the insects and small ones kept to themselves for the day.
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