Wednesday, 4 December 2019


Nearly summer.
In the morning there was black tea, loud kitchen.
Later, we're lakeside.
Dusk isn't here yet, but it's in the post.
Lunch good, but not recent.
Grass fragrant, insect life set on comfortable hum, honey.
Yellow fruits nestle in some trees.
Ratty, browned, horror novel nestles into the ground.
Dress rustles, bare heel lazy on top of my calf.
Bottle of ale.
No work tomorrow.

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