The pines were being shaken by the winds - fragrant needles fell upon our heads -
Clouds raced across the solstice sky, their smoky bellies grazing the hills -
The swollen river half covered the islet in the bend of the river -
The holly berries were bright blood red -
I remembered the colour of my own blood, its coppery terrifying smell -
Anne made a wreath from the holly and ivy -
The ancient wheel turned, trailing lichen and bone -
11.30
Tuesday 22 December 2015
East Stoke
Dorset
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