the cold winter winds, gale brisk and snow-filled makes us appreciate more what summer has in stored soon to be ancient lore no more a solemn white replaced by howling winds storms guiding us through the alphabet spelling regret. The fourth season’ death.
The ephemeral glow. Damp moisture, gathering on my glasses. Bright light on a snowy landscape. Sparks an old memory ever so sharp, standing out, enchanting me. Winter possesses more promise, than a hot maddening summer’s day
In motion, sucking the frost into my fingertips, throbbing, Winter in the air, bitter feelings fill the sky. Noises sound harsh, full treble. Panting, carrying the weight of a thousand candy bars. Where? Nowhere. Birds, a couple of Magpie, high up there descending from the clear blue skies. A dog, playing, barking, …