Downwards down the hill with the light grass and spongy soil. Smells of watered earth and pollen swiftly swirl into my nose as I roll down, down, down the hill. The green of the grass flashes my vision goes dark again and my head spins. Partially cloudy sunshine and glistening pines, “caw!!!” goes I and the birds respond in kind. Gus and Gretta fly in. I run inside to fetch the bread. My door slides open with a rush and the smell of home remains. They look at me expectantly, their heads jerking about. I toss them a piece and they snap it up. They swallow and their throats oscillate as they swallow, appreciatively. They beady eyes are at me again, and down goes the bread to the grass. My call is perfect, they are my friends. They jerk about, clumsy creatures, a funny honking couple. I run back inside and put away the bread. I forgot to take off my shoes. Whatever.
I run back outside and smell the strange air, invigorating, brings me to a higher state of elation and the inflation of the balloons in my mind as they soar away into the sky I’m being lifted high blinded by the sun and the fun of the run through the grass and the brush as such I can’t contain myself anymore I run off to explore the tree stumps and rocks and mud and buds of the strange grub that sits under the planks in the lower corner of the yard by the fire hydrant. Then the gusts of wind begin and sweep the leaves into song as the ruffling sounds spread along the horizon line their voices kind and beautiful and natural, peaceful and prime. I could live forever on the Eden plains of the old bog. This little world is mine. Bliss it is. Bliss it is.