Janey...
Crescent moon waning
over the westering bay,
a wintry, pale sun...
Helen...
By day, two strong black horses
Trot past our windows.
At night, owl floats. Silent, white.
Beverley...
garlands of coloured lights hang between the leafless trees, reflections melting in the rippling brook.
Jane...
Only the golden oak rustles its finery in the breeze. The other trees are stark. Naked but for black bark, they strain their arms to the sky.
Kit...
Minus 2 in Auld Reekie ...
featherdown folk make their way up shady Fife-facing streets, past idle cars stiff with frost
No comments:
Post a Comment