Friday, 25 November 2011

having left the cacophony of the city

breathing the scent of damp earth and dirt. lungfuls inhaled and let go. the air moves. it starts in the boney fingered trees, or so it seems. at least that's when it's heard, after the crow's warning. it wont be long before the seduction. the cool, somehow velveteen, caress. standing, eyes closed, senses alive and greedy we cross the day through dusk to night. in it's wake, half expectant. tempting the iron bird throwing shadows on the roof slates below to break free and with us soar.

1 comment:

ellom said...

this one's so alive.