Monday, March 22, 2010

Slow progress on a rain soaked day.

On the beach today I walk the line where the sea's hand wipes clean the rain stippled sand. The wind bites hard, cold. Tiny shrimp and the smallest fish jewel the border of land and sea and in the waves the silver darling shoal of herrings dart beneath the wrinkled ceiling of the water.

Back home, green tea, sleeping cats, wet dogs, work.

1 comment:

  1. When I read your beautifully descriptive words, I feel as if I'm right there on that beach. Your paintings and and words are exquisite.