Tag Archives: sun
High on the crest of a hill, the dusky sun catches it, turning the trees into burning fire-brands. Colours flash as the breeze catches them. Red, yellow, brown, gold; each one flickering in its own spotlight.
Through the chaos of dog excitement they stroll peacefully. Wearing wellies and anoraks of all different styles, they clutch their plastic bags. Decked out for all weathers, they turn their faces to the sky. The sun is shining, today is … Continue reading
Damp with dew in the early morning sun. As it warms, steam begins to rise. A cold fire burning as the day dawns clear.
The rain falls like noise on a television screen, covering the ground with a shimmering film of water. The sun shines through it with a sepia light. A picture of an autumn shower caught in the window’s wooden frame.
It slides into a shaft of sunlight and stops dead. Its plastic bodywork glows bright orange in the light, headlights glinting. A child’s hand appears and its moment in the sun is over.
The weakening light struggles to pierce the early morning clouds. A watercolour wash of pinks and oranges faintly tints them from underneath. The sun floats to the surface, serene and pale.
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.
A big, indulgent, chocolate one with maltesers on top and chocolate fingers round the outside. Sprinkled with fairy dust, it glitters in the sun. Eight candles burn, ready to be blown out. Too soon it is cut up, another birthday … Continue reading
It glints in the light and catches my eye. Resting on a bare, hairy chest, shirt open to catch the sun. As its owner doses, it rises and falls with the rhythm of his breath.
It runs over the gravel and clay bottom of a heat-depleted stream. The sun tosses itself at the water in sparkling flashes. The water plays with it, throwing it here and there as it flows towards the river.