I stroll just after Sol has blued the sky,
much mesmerized by whipped-up clouds at play.
Though heat's forthcoming, it's still cool and dry.
Such bliss I feel this perfect summer day.
The field's awash with flowers rainbow-hued,
so densely sown I hesitate to walk.
I'm awed by their expanse and magnitude,
yet oft I fear I'll crush an unseen stalk.
I look behind to eye how far I've come
and vaguely see the village on the Seine.
Carefree, I shan't turn back, too venturesome.
Yes, in this flowered veldt I shall remain.
No morn is better spent than strolling through
flamboyant fields of flowers dabbed with dew.
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