Upon typing the last verse she jumped from the chair forgetting to close the windows and ran through the wooden halls of the country house outside into the joyous wildflowers swaying like pendulums; The afternoon breeze cool and **** like green apples.
Joy was skipping until the summer air froze her heated throat.
Clouds brimmed purple dewing her nose, head buried when droplets fell, summer's ecstasy melting into lukewarm pools on a trail leading to fallen firs. Worried the curtains at home were soaked, pummeled by clear pellets, she was lost.
No friend to tease, pine needles from tangled hair.