up, up, stones, clear, cut, sharp. Lime stone. Poking through. Walls run hither, thither, back and forthing. White lines zig-zagging. Thunder draws a bow, releases fat curds of wetness, shelling the earth with the flowers of spring that trickle down the hillside. The walls bring us out past windows shuttered, notices of deaths in the houses roundabout. The coda. Returning along another path we meet kisses, soft, quick voices and birdsong.
Many thanks Tracy for a wonderful walk in the sun and the rain sharing this beautiful landscape.