Willow branches wallow wind whispering as day awakens. Branches wandering round and round. Sun light walks the ground.
As the shadow of night retreats. Walking with no feet. Yet the light follows up the field. Fluttering butterflies in fellowship fly as the light fetches the field.
The forest ever so small falls to be only in the shadows. The shade, the blades of grass whistle wildly as whirls of wind wipe across winding wheat grass seeds into the wonderous sky at last.
Wings of water rise in the sky the grass to be wetland ever nigh. The river rises with no reprise frogs fly not as high as the wren.
Wasps and bees all retreat the rain is reprieve running to the trees as the rain rushes and weezes against the trees.
The gardens hardened soil begins to open the bards paper strung and broken yet the words ever spoken.