With a feathered breath heaving out of his bright red chest,
Robin lifted higher.

Afternoon had worked its way into the daylight after the long haul this morning the
Sun had had over the hills.

This time of day was always great as long as nothing bad had happened to get in the way.

A few days ago, gray light skimmed across all of the grasslands, garlanded buoyantly about in a better effort to make it damp.

The afternoon, that day, had made the air hang heavy and warm.

It stirred up a storm in the dirt that made the worms stuffy.

A stuffy, well-watered worm is much less alert.