I hear the lark on the open meadow. Lark song makes my heart rejoice. I look at the blue sky and up there, portrayed as a troubled spot on heaven’s vault, it sings to high heaven.
It happened in March, but lasted all summer.
Now swallows practicing with their chicks. They are the masters of abrupt turns.
Never do I see a clash. Unbelievable.
I think, they all fly together towards the south.
A cheering thought ❤
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