Sounds Of A Sunday Morning

[poliphilo]

A mild, damp, misty morning. The air is in motion but ever so gently. The horses and donkeys mooch around making a crunching noise which is part chewing, part hooves meeting leaf mould. There's a constant pitter-patter coming from my right where the trees stand so close that they're almost a wood- which I decide must be the sound of leaves being shed- not blown away but simply let go of because it's that time of year.

Ailz comes downstairs singing, "I'm Nobody's Child".