28 January 2011

stone #25

The air bites at my cheeks, whistles round my ears, brings tears to my eyes. I don't care; the sun shines. Grass is rendered a blinding green, my shadow sharp as I follow it home. 
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2 comments:

EMM said...

sounds exhilerating! x

28 January 2011 at 18:41
Mimi Foxmorton said...

Ah, you reminded me that green actually exists in the world......we here are a blanket of white.......

xo

28 January 2011 at 20:33

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