Autumn

Autumn arrived. It is not cold yet, but falls, grey and slush. Some ancient nostalgia procures into his power always at this time, the Scot I think of countries where my ancestors herded the lambkin between weather conditions like this. May have been beautiful, slushily, slushily, but to scratch along making most important work.
I wake up always of course next from the reverie, and I realize it, that with a lot, but much pleasanter in the dry room, to rest on the soft pillows while my stomach is being scratched...
Even then, if many people they last for a lazy, work-shy dog.
But there are not sheep here, I am unemployed rightfully with a word!