summer's almost gone

 

 

 a soft sun-lit shaft 

steals silent 

between the shimmered morning 

maidenhair 

moist in the fecund dreams

of a young girl 

 

a solitary tree

stands proud

chained to the floor of the wood

its verdant head

pulsing

with the risen sap

of one last summer morning

autumn beckons

british summertime

One minute it's sunshine, the next the sky turns black. The ever changing face of British summertime!

blickling hall

dreams and nightmares - no. 113

the cornfield dawn

the air burnt hot rows of corn

bleeding through the crevasse

there was no rain

no air

no sound

the cloud hung still

a humid brooding mass

bruised

and purple streaked

to the ground

in which tiny scurrying insects

danced

among the weeds

and

scorched grass

this was the cornfield dawn

it was hot!!