The air is sharp and crisp; crystal. Every breath is cool and fresh.
In the west is a full moon, an unhealthy yellow as it begins to sink below the horizon. In the east a faint glow marks the ascendency of its assassin. Power lines become elevated freeways as possums scurry to their daytime hideouts. A car, headlights stabbing at the darkness, slowly moves down the street, spitting newspapers.
A magpie begins to pipe in the new day. Noisy minahs resume their squabbling. The clouds are tinged with red, as if smeared with the blood of the dying moon. Crickets switch off their night-time hold music as the daylight penetrates the gloom. Birdsong has taken its place.
It's a beautiful Autumn morning, and it's going to be a gorgeous day.
Pity I have to go to work.
2 comments:
All while I was sleeping and I missed it all... I really like this piece. P, you need to keep writing... Write it out... You say it so well... Good images... L S xxx
I agree with sharlee, Pete - this is a classic example of painting pictures with words, as we call it in Toastmasters. In fact, one day I might ask your permission to read it out loud at a future meeting. Quite, quite beautiful.
G
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