The cloud hiding the setting sun is truly anvil-shaped, flat-topped, blunted into a wedge one end, drawn to a point the other, and backlit by an orange glow.
Happy Christmas.
Tuesday, 25 December 2012
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Down the road, early evening.
My fifty-first year to heaven. We crunch the cold hard-frosted leaves and mud-iced ruts; my right thumb hurts its winter hurt. A solitary grey heron beats over the further field.
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