Autumn now and silent mornings
07.22 now and grey dawn breaking. Only a thin band of silver light above the rising fields to the north. No birds yet, nothing but the soft sough of the wind and the distant growl of a tractor.
The chill is a foretaste of winter and the dark days to come. And Christmas, to spark brightness into the bleak.
The chill is a foretaste of winter and the dark days to come. And Christmas, to spark brightness into the bleak.