The cool eyed sun of Autumn after the mid-noon meal.
Crackling field-husks and the plumping gold of lazy gourds.
The press of air is gentle against her bare limbs.
Tangling playfully with her rough-hemmed skirts and wheaty hair.
She wends home across the harvested hillocks, cloth bundle bountiful with crabby apples from uncle's orchard, and a fat wedge of piquant cheese.
She has spent the better half of the day plucking fruit and echoing bird-whistles. The Autumn sun is tepid and low on the blue scrim of sky stretching close to the low hummocks and hilltops.