take my hand and climb with me…

fifteen degrees: ‘much communication in a motion…’

Avalon ~ Bryan Ferry


Skies clad in billowing robes of grey, soft precipitation beats a pit-a-pit on grooved metal roof as mountains and fields disappear. Veil of mist, the elegant train of some wandering Snow Queen, lost en route down the aisle. I hear today this little vale’s a meteorological anomaly: weather predictions fail as the patterns here ignore climatic lore. Inland isle, this faraway place with its grand old oak tree.

Then I see you coming, out of nowhere…

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This entry was posted on October 15, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , .


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