Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Little breezes dusk and shiver...

It is overcast and grey but the days are drawing out slowly. It's no longer late winter, but now early spring and the snowdrops begin to droop, cowed by the milder breezes. The garden sways to their songs.  Soon the yellow trumpets of the daffodils will sound through the forest, shining like thick rays of sunlight among the leaf litter...

Winds tug the branches.
Witches' naked fingers tap
Against the glass pane

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