rejectomorph | Flimsy

Very early this morning I went out to find the sky moonlit and swathed in thin clouds. Even better, there was the finest of fogs, no more than a silken or gossamer hint, that wreathed the glimmering woods, and scented the night air. I'm hoping it will come again tonight, as the day was partly cloudy and the air still feels damp enough to generate a fog. Rain is probably out of the question, but that's no matter. It's as near perfect spring weather as spring weather can be around here. I'm spending every spare minute outside. The birds sing all afternoon, the frogs sing all night.

Fishies can't groan, can they? They obviously can't spell!