There's wind, and there's rain in the air
It's not too cold tonight though,
and there's still light in the sky
at six o'clock. In the next field
wild baaaing of new born lambs
and the rumbling low baas of
exhausted ewes. There's birdsong
in the air, along with the mournful calls
of rooks. The sound of rooks, which always takes me back to wakings in
half light in a narrow bed in a distant quad. To waking too immediately,
and wondering how to fill the hours
waiting for someone else to be awake.
Back to now. Late winter with a
promise of spring. All that new life.
All that new life.