Woodsong.

A day for listening to the sound of a wood. Stillness brings the zip. zip , buzz of hoverflies. Small wisps of wind fold, flow, fleckle through late summer grass, a rusty shimmer. A young deer snaps twigs pushing through the undergrowth, ears swish flies, nostrils smell me. Horses snort. Small birds stitch together the tops of the trees with their nimble song. My phone pings, knees crack.

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