100 words from Clappersgate

February 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

Gold ochre and grey. Umber sienna and moss soaked green in black zero earth. Musty and moist and blooming mushrooms. Pencilled sharp against the cobalt sky and the icy wind fingers sliding down my neck.
A thin needle of mist was pulled from the lake and sewed up the valley



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You are currently reading 100 words from Clappersgate at Still glides the stream.


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