The year dwindles and glows
to December's red jewel,
my birth month
The sky blushes,and lays it's cheek
on the sparkling fields
Then dusk swaddles the cattle,
their silhouettes
simple as faith
These nights are gifts,
our hands unwrapping the darkness
to see what we have.
The train rushes, ecstatic,
to where you are,
my bright star.
Carol Ann Duffy
 |
| A bright Sunday morning walk by the canals which were still iced over.The ducks had a slightly surreal quality as they appeared to be walking on water. |
 |
| nice to see a sense of humour |
 |
| mooring ring |
 |
| this was taken at the edge of the lock as Frankie sat to have tomato soup out of a flask.Nothing was moving today. |
No comments:
Post a Comment