Heriot Toun in summer

Words for Winter 2019/20



The smell of that buttered toast
simply spoke to Toad,
and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens,
of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings,
of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings,
when one's ramble was over
and slippered feet were propped on the fender;
of the purring of contented cats,
and the twitter of sleepy canaries.



Kenneth Grahame

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