January mornings.

These white mornings
when the wind roars
rattling the bare branches
of all the ash trees
and the rooks
ride the wind
like crazy kids on bikes,
these are winter,
the mud splashed
January winter of
empty lanes
and full ditches
and creeping dark.

De’s behind the bar tonight, and we’re quadrilling with a roar. Pop over to dVerseand scribble along.

23 thoughts on “January mornings.

  1. I am listening to wind roaring and rattling branches as I read and type, Sarah. It’s also whistling down the chimney and making the fire in the kitchen flare, a place where want to be as my study is freezing! I love the image of the rooks riding the wind like crazy kids on bikes and the phrase ‘mud splashed January’ – it certainly is!

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  2. An excellent piece; love me some soaring rooks. You captured January in a bottle, held afloat by a mere 44 words; wonderful wordplay.

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  3. Such a lovely succinct description. I really like the way it moves through the day from morning to night, from loud to quiet, always remaining so true to a real winter’s day. Makes me want to be outside and then in and I can feel and smell it so clearly even though you don’t directly mention those senses. Good writing!

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