Today's blackbird, with worm.
I looked for the blackbird in the blackbird's eye. The blackbird looked in mine, and saw itself.
I tell the man in the the Grove with the Jack Russell how much I enjoy watching the dog race after the ball which he throws for it. He hurls the ball as far as he can and even before it has left his hand, the dog is after it, anticipating its trajectory. It usually catches it on the bounce. When it returns it puts the ball down and dribbles it like a footballer avoiding a tackle, before stepping back to await the next throw. "It's good for my arm," says the dog's owner.
Today the rain is like a fine spray. It is warm, good growing weather.