Dizzy with the turning of the world, as the sun comes blazing over the horizon. Mist still in the dips of the field, crows perch on black-clad bales or paint calligraphic marks across the sky. Snail trail, a long silver ellipsis across paving slabs, bumblebees already in the poppies. A chorus of cuckoos, blackbirds, woodpigeons, all singing to the sun, seeing it for the first time. the world turns a little more and the sky is washed with gold— everything is new.
