The morning is blurred, hidden from my eyes in swathes of mist. A ghost of a landscape, just hinted at in light and shade. A pallete of greys dissolved in a watercolour wash, ethereal and waiting for the hours to focus the lens and give definition to the coming day.
"Every man has a piece of sky in his breast and in it flies a swallow.” - Fatos Arapi
Thank you very much for visiting
all writing copyright - My Name is ZING - 2009
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2 comments:
Very nice, Susannah.
I remember those misty mornings back home, with Bolsover Castle poking out of the mist, like in a fairytale landscape.
I like the quote too. I haven't seen that one before.
Paul
The mist has lifted now and everything has reappeared! :-)
Thanks for your visit Paul, it's always good to see you. :-)
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