halftwo
Wird Batcher
Frosts on the valley. Clear sky beyond. A memory of a sickle moon's sliver and a sprinkling of stars.
A Song Thrush's blast defies the cold. Meadow Pipits straggle northwards.
Out towards the moors Lapwings lie amongst the sheep, then suddenly rise. Buzzards are displaying as the black sky descends. The plovers circle and meet the cloud, black and white against the black backdrop. Buzzards dive and loop as the ink wall closes.
Six Golden Plover squat in the wheat field, watching as a flock swirls beyond: Fieldfare, Starlings and Redwings bunch and spiral and descend to the sycamores.
At the top field as hail drops, gently at first, but with gathering guts, and throws itself with force into the flocks of Rooks, Carrion Crows and Jackdaws: bouncing off the stones of the walls in a mad dance of white, with the cloak of the black sky blotting the daylight behind.
Above the heather on the summit the rim of the iron cloud cracks and the blinding day splits the dark. Soon the slate sky pales and bleaches white; storm-ragged clouds stream into the blue.
Now the Crow-driven Kestrel climbs the sky and arrows across the slopes. Spring regained basks in the sunny hollows.
A Song Thrush's blast defies the cold. Meadow Pipits straggle northwards.
Out towards the moors Lapwings lie amongst the sheep, then suddenly rise. Buzzards are displaying as the black sky descends. The plovers circle and meet the cloud, black and white against the black backdrop. Buzzards dive and loop as the ink wall closes.
Six Golden Plover squat in the wheat field, watching as a flock swirls beyond: Fieldfare, Starlings and Redwings bunch and spiral and descend to the sycamores.
At the top field as hail drops, gently at first, but with gathering guts, and throws itself with force into the flocks of Rooks, Carrion Crows and Jackdaws: bouncing off the stones of the walls in a mad dance of white, with the cloak of the black sky blotting the daylight behind.
Above the heather on the summit the rim of the iron cloud cracks and the blinding day splits the dark. Soon the slate sky pales and bleaches white; storm-ragged clouds stream into the blue.
Now the Crow-driven Kestrel climbs the sky and arrows across the slopes. Spring regained basks in the sunny hollows.
