I can sense Winter approaching. Bare branches scratched onto the opaque sky. A certain quality of light that talks of colder times and gently whispers of sprinkling fine white powder to highlight natures bare bones. I can smell it on the breath of the wind. Winter is coming.
"No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky." - Bob Dylan
Sunday, 22 November 2009
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all writing copyright - My Name is ZING - 2009
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