The Sounds of Summer
Jay
The sun beat down on his face as he lay with his eyes closed on the river bank. He could hear the clean slap of blades entering the water as a solitary oarsman sculled by, and the distant thwack of leather against willow as the batsman hit a boundary on the village green.
A plaintive voice enquired for the umpteenth time, “Is it time for the picnic yet?”
Without opening his eyes, he landed a resounding smack on the upturned bottom of the young man lying face down beside him. “Lie still and enjoy the peace and quiet,” he ordered.
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