Tag Archives: morning
It sits in the valley like condensed milk, heavy and sticky in the cold morning air. Views disappear as if by magic, a whitewashed wall in their place.
It hangs like snow which cannot fall. In drifts, it floats around the houses, obscures the hills behind. The sun attempts to shine, but its smoky tendrils hold her fast.
They hang in the hazy morning sky. Solid, inverted water droplets, drifting on the horizon. They move into the early mist like silent ghosts.
Never noticed before, I see them through the window. Each one sports a little white windmill, spinning vigorously on such a breezy morning.
The creamy-milk winter sunlight pushes through the morning mist. It floods a group of shadow-puppet trees on the horizon with a gentle torchlight, making them glow.
Sitting on a telephone wire, silhouetted against the bright morning sky, his chest is puffed out proudly. Opening his tiny beak, he broadcasts his presence to the whole blue tit world – I am here and this is my town.