A soft day. Mist-sifted morning. The birds have forgotten the words. Ephemeroptera float on silvered wings while captured breath drips from gleaming leaves. And swallows sigh and chitter, flitting with bills full of mud, and nests to tend to. Fronds of bracken unfurl, circinate. And with dew-damp shoes, I head for home.

From Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/BjejzU8geMj/

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