the scent of the raw, dark earth and for the gleam of the yellow moonlight on the wet, rustling leaves.
This longing may come in adolescence, or many times until the frost of age has withered the senses. It may come amid the showery warmth and the roving fragrance of an April day, or beside the shining, brown, leaf-strewen streams of November.
Men are, I guess, interesting creatures.
(Roving and showering?)