Tuscan dream

It\'s fresh, early in the morning. I\'m walking slowly along a narrow dirt road made of fine gravel that has managed to sink into the clayey ground. It\'s quiet... peaceful... even the thoughts and memories that have bombarded my mind so strongly so far have quieted down and seem to be sitting meekly in the nooks of my mind. I feel a touch... a gentle tickle... on my fingertips. I feel it more precisely with my open hand... they slide along my palm and escape between my fingers... they quietly rustle with their green song. The first rays of sunlight that have furtively escaped from the hot ball are beginning to caress them... still nestling in a milky bath of mist... some damp with a drop of mist on them... I raise my eyes and now I see this beauty... each tiny... tiny, but there are thousands of them... now they create green veils... of grain

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