Raw was the wind on the cheek .
Limp and lifeless the sepia trees lunged ,
left and right.
I was rattled by the silence.
There is a falling away of purpose
inspiration crashes and sinks
a pause , twixt dream and scheme.
Life in recovery mode.
Emerging on the road ,
to take a starboard inclination ,
following the curve ;
addressing a mischievous brook ,
which exuded white spray
in a weird fall.
Wildfowl watched and waited
for manna from above ,
whilst in solitary clumps ,
by graveyard wall ,
a vision in white danced before my eyes ,
drops of Spring in re- birth growing :
A gift from the dead.
Photos taken during walk around the Sherborne National Trust Estate on February 9th 2010 A.D.