In the Summertime!

Midnight!
              It was a beautiful day today. It really was. You can try to be positive around about Novembertime and say that candlelight looks better in the wintertime, but today was like the summertime and it was wonderful. The sap arises. I looked up for the sweatings and diggings and saw this old doll bent over and thought I could have had a bit of that any day. Baby, can I follow you down!?
              We had some words earlier. She said she'd been grannying all day, and missed the wonderful weather. Never heard that before. Grannying. Once she said this joe had a wren's nest and a something else nest in his hut, and was thrilled skinny. Thrilled skinny. The wummin is a poet! Some folk are just so much smarter than some other folk, and that wummin is far smarter than me. I asked her what the carnaptious, basturn joe was called who had her plot before (I was howeing with a howe he'd given me the year before he croaked and disappeared, and so I was thinking about him before she bent over). Is a howe spelt ho, or is that just in gangsta rap? How do you spell the garden implement?
              I meditated for more than six hours today, which is not a lot. The wren's nest had been added to. The wren was giving it laldy in the buglia bush just outside after peeking into the hut. Come into me, babes! They make different noises, the wrens, at different times. It is a language of sorts, maybe without grammar, but it does convey. You would have thought the harsh winter had killed them all, but it hasn't. Didn't get me either. It will sometime.