no change

When I said yesterday that the forecast for the night was ‘sunny’, I should perhaps have added that that was the forecast for today, too.

And for tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow, as far as the predictions go, though not, I hope, until the last syllable of recorded time.

The brimstone butterflies would be a better illustration of the hellish weather, but they won’t stay still long enough to be photographed. Instead here’s a peacock butterfly who couldn’t find any green to settle on.

peacock butterfly

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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