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On the damp woods trail my boots scarcely make a sound. Squirrels keep throwing fits — as startled as me, this July morning, by the apparition of my breath.
Dave Bonta
SourceLicence:CC BY-SA 4.0
On the damp woods trail my boots scarcely make a sound. Squirrels keep throwing fits — as startled as me, this July morning, by the apparition of my breath.
A walker moves quietly through damp woods early in the morning, and the only sounds come from the squirrels, which seem to be scolding him. The speaker's boots barely make a noise, so the animals' fuss feels a little sudden, as if the forest had been calm until something broke it.
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