In Winter The World Falls Away...

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In winter the world falls away in sheets of colour. And shadows stick themselves to trees, grey and dark they reach out forever towards the slate of sky; ink upon a broken board. The hills are still, and lifeless. Winds roll over them, moving nothing. There are no eyes here, they went away long ago. There is no witness, the swans have ceased their singing.

A World Away

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A world away, and the sea still knocked against the arching stone pier that guarded the village. Gulls twisted themselves between sun and spray, ricocheting like rounds of hail among the rooftops. The residents within sighed and didn't notice that their days split apart - some hunkered, with knitted brows and pinched lips, determined gleams concentrating in their eyes; while others found their way towards the black windows and looked out at the liquid horizon, their hearts melting like mist that waits to see the sun.

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The Cloth Closed Her Eyes

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The cloth closed her eyes like liquid ensnaring a scorched surface. It hid the dreams that darted under the lashes, all were smoke and shadow, thoughts that had run until they burned, but now lived on emitting the low hum of fading embers, exhaling the vaporous mild memories of luminous experience.

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The Letter The Dear Girl Had Sent...

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The letter the dear girl had sent was a long, exquisite tale of social conquest: an evening party had been attended, a viperous acquaintance had attempted to inflict a mortal wound upon a romance but the girl had triumphed, her intended had appeared quite by chance at the party, and with eyes for no one but her.

There, In The Corner...

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There, in the corner, stood three misshapen chairs. Made of wood-knots and found fragments, some old hands had once fastened them together in a likeness of themselves and the chairs took on the demeanour of palm-cups, ready to hold whatever set upon them. They had lived a long time in this pale room, which only ever seemed to shine with a soft, wintry light. The people, their minds in knots and fragments, would come and go, forever changing, they left fingerprints of sky-ice.

The Collection Featured An Odd Assortment...

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The collection featured an odd assortment of spindly, dry foliage. The leaves had sprouted from the top of long, thin stalks which sat in their own small space upon the table. Some rested in small vases, others sat upon their own dehydrated bulbs and roots which had been plucked from the ground whole. Each herb or flower had lost its particular enchantment, their spells had drained as they dried, lost to the shadows in the soil.

The Words Passed

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The words passed across the tiny distance between them, cocooned in the warmth of breath. They spoke in a fractured daze, of the long evening, the days coming, and the years it had been since they last met.

In The Distance She Saw The Mountain...

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In the distance she saw the mountain, its peaks enveloped in a confusion of white wings. They swirled like May-ribbons, entranced and attracted by the safe, rocky ledges but ever recoiling from the cold surface. She made her way within the whirlwind of weathers, edging closer to mountain path. It arched away from her and she gazed up, up to the crags that held such dear treasure.

With The World So White..

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With the world so white, and frozen, winter was when light fractured at first sight of snow and disintegrated into curves of colour across the land. We lived by the edge of forest then, watching sunshine fall apart at break of day and rush back upon itself to nightfall. All the trees were hung with opals and pearls, and we picked them like fruit, ghost fruit that melted when they touched our lips.

The Chalky Flowers Bloomed...

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The chalky flowers bloomed, despite the lack of air and dragging damp of the windowsill. Their leaves stretched out like vines, reaching higher, ever higher, towards a fresher climate. The world outside had drowned for days and the view had diluted into drab flat hues. As the days drifted, the children's eyes became as washed out as the world and their hearts gasped in their sodden cages.

The Pea-Blooms Lingered Long...

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The pea-blooms lingered long that year. The sun, warm from languid days turned and became pale, silent and crisp. Some glow was left in September and it caressed the flowers, their petals flourished and clung to fingertips that called on them. Days clocked on, and mists curled across the land with a darkening intensity, leaving leaves burnished and bronze, and the peas clutched ever closer to their house of wires. They remained the last stand of summer.

The Mist Had Moved Mountains...

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The mist had moved mountains, turning them to sky; a sky of melting clouds that ran with colour. They seeped into her shadow and behind her eyes, and she hid in its folds. The damp air bewitched her fingers, she swept them through the vapours, absorbing time.

The Flowers Borne of Winter...

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The flowers borne of winter rose like tiny dark skeletons. They broke earth as light strengthened, black pins that sliced soil and awkwardly unfolded into form. Brittle as sheet ice, they were ghosts made of pale days; paper-thin corpses that resurrected under the breath of air. Bobbing in the breeze, they danced a death-dance, for it was the only life they'd ever known, and their flower-heads shook out the bewitching scent of sleep.

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The Forest Had A New King...

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The forest had a new king. He took his throne in Downward Dell, quite by force, for his silver paws were strangers among the pines and they had come a long way. Among his treacherous attendants were the spies, small monochrome birds with tufts of antennas. They plucked out the riches and brought him a crown of thistle, to sit upon the pearl fur now installed on the seat of petrified majesty. He lost no claws that day, but the sun was settling and the dark night rains grew creepers everywhere.

She Sailed Amongst The Tangled Roots...

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She sailed amongst the tangled roots that curled and rolled together in a threaded mass, veins of waves that pulled in its prey. The trunks that fed from this viperous sea bloomed an evergreen crown, shining forever amidst a bleak sea. She blew on her sails and rose higher among the coils, glimpsing leaves that rippled like radiant scales. At the sight of her they began to shiver and scatter, falling down to her like tiny, papery flakes.

The Bed Broke...

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The bed broke. Her cluster of spring jewels, so neat and silent in their burrows below the grey, worn earth, sensed the dilating light and sliced through the frozen soil to meet the burning beams of February. The ground trembled, and soil tumbled over, breaking black as it made way for the army of sweet green things. Restless, they sought out the fresher air and drove beyond the last leaves of decay, unfurling into the lingering twilight, their snowbells chiming merrily with the lush evensong that drifted, feathery, from trees.

She Danced Among The Wheatears...

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She danced among the wheatears, in cinder-fallen fields,
She danced among the gossamer, until the sky revealed
Within its cloak the softest song, of ice and grey delight
That fell into her open arms, and turned the lea to light.

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September's Dusk Ran Over...

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September's dusk ran over the farm, and night shadows grew in the tiny windows. The velvet heather swayed as the air cooled, its faint scent rolling over the hill. In the workers' cottages, heads were downed on pillows, the souls wandering in new fields - sowing new seed, harvesting new dreams. They felt like they lived there forever.

The Winter Sun Hung Low In The North....

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The winter sun hung low in the north. Barely breaking into daylight, it burned golden for hours, sending a cascade of rich yellow streams across the world, then faded swiftly when all its splendour was spent. On clearer days it explored the town houses, surging through their windows and alighting within. It flowed over furniture legs and brightened when it saw something to its fancy, lingering over books and blooms. It was brave in these days, battling back shadow into the recesses, letting darkness hide in hinges.

Smoke And Firelight Flooded...

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Smoke and firelight flooded out of the forest, she turned on her heels and dissolved back into the trees, back into the embers of his memory.