Upon airy perfection...

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Down to the river, down to the gentlest of places, where a delicate lover's breeze caresses my face. Water mites dance in dizzying swirls and cows munch idly in the meadow. Where happiness lives in a contented smile upon lips that whisper grateful airs to a magical morning. My heart beats to the nodding buttercups tune, my eyes drift shut with the hypnotic sway of the Gentlemanly tall grass.

Peace....contentment...rest.....

Oh sweet life....