Sunday, 7 December 2008

Cold summers eve

A cold wind rustles the grass, its fingers finding my feet sitting idle under the desk. An overcast sky is reflected in the rippling of the pool, in the coldness of the bricks, in the dullness of the light. Pink flowers smile into the grey day, the green grass vibrant still in the dull light. The day slowly turns, the birds singing and squawking as they settle in for the night.

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