Bare branches stretch
through tumbling green;
so many kisses
beyond my reach.
mistletoe
Tag: winter
winter approaches
When the white clouds lifted, they left behind
a hint of snow along the mountain ridge. The sky
is blue as any summer’s day and I walk to the village
in unbroken sunshine. On the way back, a neighbour
eases his donkey from amble to pause and greets me.
He wants some windfall apples “pa’ el guarro”. I agree,
but would so much prefer to let the patient burro
mumble fruit from my palm, not help to fatten
the squealing pig for Martinmas.
(First draft – which means I’ve only rewritten it half a dozen times and juggled the line breaks back and forth and to and fro, but haven’t added in additional material or stepped back from it very far.)
Continue reading “winter approaches”
returning,
she walks through fields of silver.
Winter cracks under her feet
and the earth breathes
gossamer. In her wake,
the path is damp
and green.
Yes, it’s a bit soon to be thinking of spring. But the rain has at least paused for a day or two; yesterday there was a rainbow, and today, after a slight frost, we have tenuous sunshine, so it’s hard not to feel a little more optimistic.
daylight
Like I said the other day, it’s been very, very wet. But yesterday the rain stopped for long enough for me to go for a walk. The river was back within its banks, and I got a glimpse of the mountains for the first time since I got back from the UK:
This morning, the predominant colour outside is grey once more, and the mountains have disappeared again.
sodden
It’s been raining for days. I could have taken a photo of the two inch deep puddle in front of the greenhouse, but instead I went to the piscina natural and made a short video:
don't confuse the narrator 