Tag Archives: summer
A pale imitation of its summer self, it falls on trees and grass in faded rays. Its brightness is subdued, a watery yellow which gives only soft warmth. Yet flowers glow beneath its gentle touch, a last vestige of the … Continue reading
Its cloud-like billows cocoon the bed. A crimson flower pattern bursts across its white surface. A perpetual summer covering this winter warmer.
Red and velvet-like, the petals seem dipped in blood, their edges dark and dripping with dew. A last remnant of summer before the autumn sets in.
Summer’s residue, they slowly change from pink to red. Pregnant with Autumn’s promise of harvest and plenty – a dream of fire-lit hearths and steaming mugs of rose hip tea.
Hidden inside the beer bottle, it makes me start when it rushes out with the water. Drowned already, it lies on its back in the sink. An unloved insect, innocuous in death.
The two cases sit, gaping, on the bed. They are ready to be filled, the promise of a holiday drawing ever closer.
Bright red against a clear blue sky. Without warning, its engine picks up speed and then fades away into the distance. The glider it towed begins to drop silently, picking up the air currents for its bird-like flight.
It hangs outside a shop front. White and patterned with flowers, its brightness shines like Summer. A flag in the cool breeze, it heralds sunny days to come.
Everything is dripping from recent rain. The new Spring leaves and flowers are heavy with water. Yet there is still that fresh, expectant green of a Spring garden, waiting to burst into its Summer glory.
He hops unexpectedly into my path, his dulling, Christmas-red breast catching my eye. In his beak is a small insect, his next contribution to his growing brood. Winter is over and Summer is here.