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.