Mist, Dew And Bird Song
A dew soaked morning here in the east, the flat world of the fens hides under a coat of autumn mist and small flocks of goldfinch glean the hedgerows of seed. The morning mist lifts from the rivers and drains as if to uncover the water world that none have seen, reeds drip with autumn tear drops as still they stand and no winds to clean the night away just still cool air protects this magical land.
A day of work awaits this bead maker with flame to light and beads to form, another day in his safe barn away from the world of worry and stress, today again the glass will place smiles upon his face and wonders of colour will amaze him as they always do.
Tomorrow visitors will warm the barn and once more the sound of voices will fill the air, laughter as long since echoed in the dark corners of that little world of beads.
No comments:
Post a Comment