Friday night; silence falls charcoal belly pushes forward the mountains, dark as irony the western sky. and then rain clinking from a guttering sky. falling bells, voices of runnelling and, temperature unwieldy (floods in the body, floods from the sky),. middle age waits for a breeze... how to measure the age of a breeze? Air shifts time and we smell it; desert stories, the ruffling of dunes: a row of hens at rest. breezes and time, heads under wings and it’s time for tea, rendered fat in the pan. Friday night; silence falls
A full-on week and little energy left for writing (much to my frustration). I couldn’t face the cento set by NAPOWRIMO so, to my own surprise, I have been drawn back to the Duplex.