…feet cold, nose cold, knees cold – cold ice covered, shiny, slippery surface – got to cycle carefully – balance, balerina-like, on my cold metal bike. But at least its not raining.
…and the fat, happy carrots hang, dangling, from golden, diamond encrusted sticks and we follow them, never quite reaching their orange, chrisp, suculant, flesh
… and it is us who hold the sticks!
… and the snow swirls like cold smoke, and and the gentle giants of ancient myths and children’s fairy tales grace our tables with their dandruff escapades, all hiccups and sad Plymouth-iron gavots.
Leave a Reply