The day was a dazzler, hot against the skin to sunlight scratchy raking the thick green July. As weakened overnight cooling paths with sky cleared, seen through dark and pointed tracery of the ash tree leaves.
Bands of swallows and house martins came together bass on wheat fields. Swooping, flicker low, the whiskers of a previous mosquito spiny seeds had grabbed a rare day of full sun to medium mature, birds have a call to close one to the other. Their gossip natterings filled the air; they were excited and full of energy, nervous and rebellious. The Swifts were off terrorizing some other sky and most other birds were closing themselves in the shadows. The swallows and martins ran around the light in a corner of the field until scarpered too to where it is during the night.
A white cat looked lane: "fine love and barley", as the Japanese poet Basho say - and slipped into the coverage of rabbit shuffled. From direction became a field Vole, running as fast as his legs shortly could take it down outside, primitive in lots of duff, definitely on a mission through a world of danger compilation. A field with a hedge of high ran a wire fence; a willow Warbler perched on a post of calls soft as sneezing that twitched his entire body. As he walked toward his position, the Warbler could fly to another and sneezing, maintenance of this for the length of the fence. I've seen robins doing exactly the same here.
Beyond of the sphere Orange street lights sparkled in Wenlock and bats appeared. They came so close, that I could hear the thrum of wings is stretched so thin that the last glow of the sky shone through them. With spirited energy as the martins, bat flickered to my about owls pronounces their own night and then the vole.
没有评论:
发表评论