January

A month of crispness. Hoare frosts encrusting the leaves and branches of the hedgerows. The sound of crunching grass under foot. The rasping warmth of wool against a freezing neck and a huff of steam as every breath escapes. The sun, rarer than blue sea glass, bursting through a dense cloud to remind us of its white beauty low in the sky.

A month of darkness. Grass sodden. Water pooling on the lawn. The pavements a dark mood and the roads merely islands surrounded by mirrors of the sky and the starkness of trees. Days short like tempers and the nights too long for comfort when alone with our thoughts.


Time up.

Inspiration: the dream and reality of January as we come to the end of it. But I had to think today and that means less writing.