Its early morning in the countryside on a farm and the sun is arriving as always scheduled, like clockwork. There is a little boy, Johnny, 8 years of age, lying in his bed next to the window. The roosters are calling and the birds are fluttering all about, as if in a hurry, busily tending to their needs. The cool breezy air is kissing Johnny on the cheeks as the wind rushes through his window disturbing the curtains as they blow about with the wind. The smell of grass and livestock is in the air.
Bigueur's Blogosphere 