Perpetual Grey
- At December 03, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In Travelling
0
It seems the days are perpetually overcast, the rain always just beginning or just ending. There is a constancy in the supply of fresh mud on the bottom of my boots and on the dog’s underbelly. Everything squelches. I wait impatiently for the sound of frost underfoot, the ring of hard stones, and a blue sky.
Darkling
- At December 02, 2010
- By Dian Day
- In Travelling
- 0
On overcast days, the dark comes especially early. The woods are too-quiet; the songbirds have flown. The white pine branches are still and cold, with no wind to sway them. Even the little brook travels its serpentine path without the appearance of movement, as if it were already ice. There’s a sense of everything waiting… for snow.