Dark Morning

Rushing Dark Skies


   A dark winter morning welcomes us this Wednesday, as light opens up our world the sight of those rain filled wild clouds rushing over the fens heading off to the coast is all we see, no bright blue skies to start this day, just deep dark banks of storm armies rolling east, in haste they march watched by a thousand fenland eyes.
   The light drizzle of night has left tiny crystal clear drops on every window and cobbled path holds still pools for early winds to dry, clumps of snowdrop leaf sit nestled under cherry tree with coats of dew and Magpie rattle is cutting the silence, a different land winter is leaving behind.
   No ice is left and ponds now dance in fenland breeze to celebrate their freedom from that bitter cold winter  sleep, now life can start again in water cold, a life so strange for us but to them a world so full and busy, weed will grow and reed will stand until the spring they will produce this show we watch, a show that will amaze again like every year.
   A day of glass I face, warm and content I will work my flame while I watch the molten magic tricks that will entertain and orange glow from box of fire will keep them safe until tomorrow. Rods will watch as I pick my next and dust filled corners will hide eyes that see all, builders of web will laugh at my simple craft as they produce such stunning work and to them I bow in respect.
   How lucky this bead hermit is to share this world of flame and glass, to explain his reason to fight for it to the last is not needed and one that all can see.