halftwo
Wird Batcher
At first the rising sun against the coming cloud: a rainbow arcs against the failing of the day just begun. The ragged squall of pearly grey floods the shrinking blue.
Common gulls scud the wild northerly blow, tilting in the wind and blinking whites and greys in the last light. Fieldfares head for shelter below the ridge as rain starts to sting.
From the hedge a Song thrush, quiet and calm, cryptic pattern melting it into the small deep shadows, peers out as the sky falls increasingly solid: sleet clumps to hail.
The land freezes to white: hailstones fill the hollows and overflow as the trees thrash manically.
Ashy clouds change to slate and roof the world, blue blotted and gone. The hail stops and now the snow blows from the gale's gusts, whipping more along than down, white lights flashing in the dark of the day.
And still the birds feed, tits on the feeders and a Robin, suddenly seasonal, picking at the fallen food.
A Jay, impossibly beautiful in pinks and whites, chequered crown and specks of blue, is blown into the shelter of the garden, searching for food. It watches a Magpie gulping down the food on the lawn but won't descend from the cherry.
It heads away on the gale and leaves the easy pickings to others.
Clouds tear and scud away and, briefly, ragged-edge blue skies break. The snow stops and lies icily on the shivering land.
Common gulls scud the wild northerly blow, tilting in the wind and blinking whites and greys in the last light. Fieldfares head for shelter below the ridge as rain starts to sting.
From the hedge a Song thrush, quiet and calm, cryptic pattern melting it into the small deep shadows, peers out as the sky falls increasingly solid: sleet clumps to hail.
The land freezes to white: hailstones fill the hollows and overflow as the trees thrash manically.
Ashy clouds change to slate and roof the world, blue blotted and gone. The hail stops and now the snow blows from the gale's gusts, whipping more along than down, white lights flashing in the dark of the day.
And still the birds feed, tits on the feeders and a Robin, suddenly seasonal, picking at the fallen food.
A Jay, impossibly beautiful in pinks and whites, chequered crown and specks of blue, is blown into the shelter of the garden, searching for food. It watches a Magpie gulping down the food on the lawn but won't descend from the cherry.
It heads away on the gale and leaves the easy pickings to others.
Clouds tear and scud away and, briefly, ragged-edge blue skies break. The snow stops and lies icily on the shivering land.
