Sunday, 12 July 2009

Mount Ephraim, anticlockwise. 5pm.

The sun shines through ripe grass that sways in drifts on the bank above us. The stems are so beautiful, slender and blonde that I hardly dare write about it.

1 comment:

jem said...

That last sentiment is so true. Sometimes the moment feels diluted once it reaches the page. But not writing about it at all risks it disappearing forever.