Sunrise, sunset…

September Sunrise

Sunrise another perfect day, clear blue skies, calm blue sea, mountains steadfast and sure, this is how our lives are ordered. Yet momentarily it seems time has become elastic; like a line cast by a fly fisherman and we float downstream on the still water, then snapped back to reality. The house is too quiet, no radio, no music, no TV, no sleep, so listen to the referendum results come in. Morning comes and we are still one nation but for some hopes lie dashed like scattered petals after the storm; we grieve for all things lost…

Dying sun

September warmth fades in the red embers of the evening sun, sudden realisation that the swallows have gone, one last fly past on Friday morning, swooping low over the garden, into the shed, circling the sky above our heads and now the skies are quiet and empty. The song birds move closer to the garden, wood pigeons have made the beeches their home, vying for roosts among the rooks. The chickens have taken themselves to bed, the darkening sky calls out the stars, all is peace and quite; too quiet. Straining my ears to the sound of a welcome bell, white face in the darkness, gallop across the green and into the bright kitchen. The garden aches for your presence…

To everything turn, turn, turn…

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ecclesiastes+3&version=NCV

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