Tag Archives: horizon
A shepherd’s warning. The sky is blood-red, cloud-clotted. Lit by a fiery glow, as if the gates to hell lie just beyond the horizon. Minutes pass and the fire dies down, replaced by a normal autumn grey.
It begins to darken from the horizon, like a thick, black quilt. Wispy clouds graze it with flaming orange-pink scratches. Trees are silhouetted against its fading brightness. The early autumn dusk has come to soon, a beautiful reminder that winter … Continue reading
They hang in the hazy morning sky. Solid, inverted water droplets, drifting on the horizon. They move into the early mist like silent ghosts.
Opening the curtains reveals pale blue sky, a watercolour wash fading to pale pink as it hits the horizon. The far off hills look as delicate as a papercut, the trees as thin as rice paper.