Breeze, 9The goat nudges me with it's hard horns as I pat it's fluffy back.
Swish, swosh goes the brown figues tail. In it's minds it's saying 'get off me you naughty flies.'
The damp grass itches my legs as I go to sit down by the fence where the cows walk around very sleepily.
Moo goes one of the black shadows.