Springtime 

      Springtime gusts of wind blow over the crisp meadow, blowing the grass and revealing to me the woodchuck hole with a woodchuck pecking out. I put myself in place of the woodchuck, always fast with the ear and still with the feature, watching constantly the little followers behind him and searching the sky for bandits.         

      The wind seems to beckon me saying, “Come with me, come with me.” I say I can’t waving my book in front of me like I was waving to a good friend. Then the wind answers back saying, “No’s not an answer,” by taking my hat to have me chase after it. When the wind finally stops, I find myself at a calm shallow pool where deer and birds come to quench their thirst and frogs and salamanders make their families.

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Posted by magster

Posted by ElvishAuthoress