While Algy was absorbed in his book, with his beak tucked deep inside the pages, the sky above him got blacker and blacker, and the sharp east wind grew steadily stronger and colder. He looked up from his reading and realised that the weather was changing fast. As the sun cast rays out from behind the clouds it created beautiful patches of light on the sea, but Algy knew that it meant the end of sunny days for a while. That bitter wind was certainly beginning to whine, and the Marram grass was complaining too; it reminded Algy of a poem by Emily Dickinson:

          The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
          A travelling flake of snow
          Across a barn or through a rut
          Debates if it will go.

          A narrow wind complains all day
          How some one treated him;
          Nature, like us, is sometimes caught
          Without her diadem.

[Algy is quoting the poem The sky is low by the 19th century American poet Emily Dickinson.]

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