Walking early with Kiffer and the dogs over the hill. Kiffer walks like a dog, so close at heel he trips you, then bounding ahead. On the edge of hearing, lapwing calls. A flock of lapwings in my mind and then I look up. I count, eight, nine, ten. Rooks, not lapwings. It is good to remember before Christmas that you can't always get what you wish for. Hoping for a peaceful day with my children, a dog walk and some snow. And lapwings.
In my head, small gold hares, running.
In the post, a red dragon.