Tag Archives: water
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.
Beautiful bramleys, round and squat, dimpled at the stalk. Bright green, waxy skin and crisp flesh. Their bitter juice oozes and drips as I cut them. Brown lines appear as the air hits the delicate whiteness inside. I drop them … Continue reading
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.
Fields of dried stubble glow a bright yellow, picked out by golden rays. From their left comes a grey misty curtain of water, slowly extinguishing each light as it moves.
They bob on the pool’s surface, abandoned. Plastic primary colours contrast with the sunlit, brilliant blue of the water. The joyful babies who played with them are gone, but still they float, awaiting their return.
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.
They move over the wall like water. A furry head turns and a tail starts flicking with excitement. Gone in a flash, the moment for chasing has passed.
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.
The water is still, disturbed only by small wind eddies. The trees’ summer leaves reflect in its mirror-like surface. A swan swims serenely by, four cygnets staying close as she dips her head to feed.
Water swells all around me. My toes peep out above the waterline. The tap dribbles a thin line of hot water. Embraced by its warmth, I float away into relaxation.