Harton sat in his cart, allowing his old horse to pick its own slow pace and enjoying the sunlight that warmed his face. It was not yet strong enough to dispel the chill of the middle spring, but birds already trilled in the trees, and first swollen buds began to burst with tender new leaves. In merely another week, the barren branches of trees would be heavy and green. Harton's face creased with a smile, and his body rocked and bobbed, as the cart rolled untended, save for the will and habit of the old horse.
Last Updated : 2020-08-18 Read more