A Spitfire's wing took root under a gentle tree ...

The church was filled with soft voices -

We'd walked from Clouds Hill to Moreton - 

We'd heard bird song in a leafless tree - above us was the icy blueness of the sky -  

We walked with frozen shadows - 

The bright sun hung in the air, promising summer -

Redwings flew before us, rising up from a field grazed by lambs - 

Bare oaks held high tangled crowns of lichened twigs - dark pines kept secrets - 

Puddles mirrored the January world - 

Inside the church, gentle babushkas admired the hand etched windows - 

A galaxy spun in a lens of glass - a spitfire's wing took root under a gentle tree - 

11.30

Friday 15 January 2016

Moreton 

Dorset