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A cool breeze gently stirs the morning garden, refreshed greens. Yesterday’s sultry afternoon, abruptly closed in darkness as black clouds emptied themselves, thunder and lightning rolling over the land.  After the storm, bats circle and swoop, scooping up emerging insects. The air, thick with moths, finds the cat leaping into darkness in some “Danse Macabre“.

Dawn chorus, blackbird sings atop the telegraph pole, robins, swallows, finches and tits sing out in the first cool rays of morning. The flowers reluctant to open, cherry blossom, scattered and brown upon the lawn. From a nearby field a lark sings unseen, fat lambs graze the abundant grass. Partridge walk lazily up the empty verge.

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But my head tells me thunder is still around, “Thunder head” my grandmother called it. Grey skies crowding in, rain not far away, sipping ginger and cinnamon tea in an effort to relieve it….

 

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