The death of winter is slowly taking over...no walks in the sun and swimming and kayaks. Chill grey winds have left me panting on the frozen sand, a fish out of water. The birds that leaf the barren trees fly away at the sound of my plodding steps. I search for light and there is none, only the cold blue pulse of arctic currents whisking away the last yellow motes of summer.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment