This year although the bumper crop, she does not discard a grain of grain, the microcheiria picks up the golden rice ear, in the dimple fills the wave which smiles.
The crow lifted up her head and began to caw her best, but the moment she opened her mouth the piece of cheese fell to the ground, only to be snapped up by Master Fox.
Much of that distant memory has faded, but I can still see the luminous Milky Way, the faint outline of dunes, the distant rock formations, and the mussel fossils I picked up and then lost.