"Come outside," the Summer Wrens Cried

"Come outside," the summer wrens cried, and I could not resist; I fled my chores, raced out of doors, and by the sun was kissed. Upon my hammock, swinging low, my body lay unstressed. I spread my limbs, sighed soft aloud, and made my choice to rest. The house be damned, it's mess inside, awaiting so much toil. For I would drink this sunshine up, smell hard the flowers in soil. My dog arrived, rolled upon his back, and felt the grasses tingle. He looked at me and I agreed: With nature we would mingle.