A Night Of Rain
The still morning air is damp here in the flat world of east Anglia, every tree drips and the grey skies left behind by last night's rains hang over us making for a dark dull start to the day.
No bright sunshine to flood the fens on this April day, no warm morning sun to greet the fresh new blossom of cherry, plum and peach, just the dampness left behind by the darkness of a wet night. So quiet is this early hour, no busy sounds of building bird or courting dove, no gossip telling finches sit on bud filled branch, just silence and stillness, how different a day this be from those we enjoyed this past week.
Talk of cold days to return hit our ears and winds from the north head our way, great frost will once again cover the dark fen soil and summer will once again stutter back not sure of her entrance, the rare spring we wished for as again left our dreams and the chill again returns to cool our expectations.
Today I will sit at my flame and eyes will search through dusted window pane for signs of summer's return while glass will form beads of art that only fire can achieve and thoughts of warm summer evenings will ride the merry-go-round in my mind.
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