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.