Monday, 29 December 2008

Up the road, afternoon (Sunday).

The clods of the ploughed field are like concrete underfoot, and the frost still etches the shapes of bramble leaves in the hedges, and gnaws quietly at chin and nose.

1 comment:

Bee said...

I went on my first English walk (post-Bahamas) this morning, and did indeed experience some gnawing frost - on chin, nose, and hands, too!