Early Winter Postcard

Dear World,
I am writing to you from a day near the end of November. This morning the moon lit up the sky, and hung around for a while after the sun turned up. Both of them together made the ground frost sparkle, and helped me find where the surface water was frozen still. In the dip by the Small Woods I thought to find thick ice but the tree shelter had huddled it; by the house where the sun hits, I was surprised by the slippery road. First clouds of the morning were silver, and the second batch was pink. By mid morning they were a soft wash of white and the frost held in the shadows. My eyes were full of sun glare and bare trees. Later the cloud fanned out, reminded me of a white peacock I saw once; a snow peacock. Later still, the sky got darkened drop by drop. Did you ever draw a picture in wax crayon then paint over it? The moon was orange wax in the watery dark. We thought of pressing our hands to the sky, to colour palms with night ink. I would make a print and always remember.
With Love,
Lils xx


Friko said…
Thank you, weather gods, the rain has stopped and I can breathe again. A lungful of frosty air tastes like champagne after weeks of consuming stale, flat beer dregs left over in the glasses collected from he bar at the end of the evening.

I actually saw the sky, it wasn’t just a pall of sadness.
Lisa Southard said…
Glad to find the weather gods engaged in kindness! And that your sky is happier Friko :-)

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