Seasons, senses & self
Bus No.50. Last stop but one. Towering blocks of flats. Powdery mildew on leaves, ivy hedge, hollowed oak. Mosaic of colours under the plane tree. Chinn Brook in spate, hidden by trees, marking the city’s edge. Across the rough grassland, the last light of day outlines Lombardy poplars, great oaks.I turn to go home. Ahead, low in the sky, the full moon.
This magical place of little renown ‘catches the heart off guard’, filling it with grace.
Seasons, senses & self 48/365:
Nudging you to... write? reflect? walk? notice? flow?
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The plan
Other posts in the series
Author's intro to the series
Contact the author (Chris Fewings)