Monday, 26 December 2011


I dreamed of snow last night, and in my dream it was dancing. Like a slow waltz the snow fell on the garden, but above the distant hills and trees it was scurrying across the heavens, like a break-dancer. I miss the snow this year. There is none about; just the dull, cold, rain and occasional sleet that covers the valley in mist. No robins with their red breast against the white backdrop. No snowmen - no noises muffled by the snow blankets - just fine, skirmishing rain, that drifts like ghosts on Halloween among the tall trees in the park. Where is the winter of my discontent? How can I praise the glorious sun when all seasons are the same? The changing climate is killing not only nature, but the imagination as well - it is becoming dull, like the ditch-water on the roadside - please bring the crisp, white, snow, so that I may dream again.

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