No warmth in this sun

A nonette inspired by Colleen Chesebro’s weekly prompt.

 

There is no warmth in this winter sun

covered in a blanket of grey

as pale as melted butter

bleak as unmelted ice.

Yet the birds still fly

across their sky;

tempest-tossed

they sing

spring.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

21 thoughts on “No warmth in this sun”

      1. I suppose if blizzards were endemic to this part of the world housing would be different. The old houses are all thick stone with small windows, to keep the heat out, but the roofs are leaky, the floors and attics have no insulation, because the winters aren’t very cold. It’s very rare we even get a dusting of snow and have never had it last more than a couple of hours.

      2. It’s just very ordinary rural France, but the climate is good and because there’s nothing spectacular here, there are no tourists and nobody wants to live here, so it’s…quiet 🙂

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