Brahms, the Sun and the Sheep

A fine misty rain all day with the heavy sky so near I could touch it. Then suddenly, with Brahms touching Beauty inside me, the sun broke through and shone magnificently
in the fields below my window. For a few wondrous moments the trees, their wet leaves golden in this season, shimmered brilliantly against the pale blue sky.

Two fields below the dinner bell must have rung, for a flock of sheep quickly darted across in single file. Running sheep from a distance have no legs. They appear as large cotton balls bouncing in the tall grass.