The walk after work and before tea seems to work out quite well. Tonight there was a definite frosty sting in the air.
These fellows took my attention with their red beaks and legs. You'd swear they knew I was taking their photo, they look so damn coy.
I continue to struggle to write anything of substance. Even a poem seems to be beyond my capabilities right now. At least I can read. I'm still reading the 'Bedside Book of Birds'. As well a bit of Denise Levertov, and just for contrast, Bosworth writing about Johnston. I eagerly await the book of collected poems by Amy Clampitt that I ordered from Amazon.
Every morning on my way to work I come to a crossroads. To the right is the way to work, to the left is the road out of the city. Every morning I am tempted to just go left. Flee town and head north. Every day I am walking proof that temptation can be overcome.