short stories
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JULY-Thunderheads and Lightning
It was now early July, the morning was fine, the sky blue, and the clouds below like fluffy white balls of cotton. The lane was awash with the great willowherb, a splash of pinkish mauve amongst the tall umbellifers. There was an abundance of golden yellow ragwort, this plant being the distain of many, but not for the ephemeral wings of the cinnabar moth who rears her yellow and black striped caterpillars on this tenacious plant.
Moon Shadow
When the night pulls her gentle curtain across the sky the clouds then begin to let my minds running script be like the clouds themselves.
Clouds excite me, stir my blood and make my thoughts flow. I fear science would steal away my imagination. Although dusk is a mesmerising time of day, when the sun sets, the light dims and shadows begin to fall. They become inter-twined with light,
a little bit of heaven on earth
The wind and rain was raw and mean and would change but for a moment. It would touch your face as soft as a feather, and then all of a sudden the cold would hit you once again, for when nature’s birthing spring, she gets right down to it.