A robin pranced around the skullcap patch.
I cut a bouquet of hydrangeas and found a cricket, its antennae at least as long as its narrow, translucent body.
A mockingbird again snacked in the elderberry.
Half a dozen rabbits enjoying a good silflay throughout the gardens and slim meadows of the Fens.
Also, I don’t want to be too redundant, but I somehow woke, right around four thirty, without a bit of cricket, katydid, or conehead in my ear. Was it too cold? Or were they merely weary?