Implicit promise

Decent post-rain morning. Sun slanting into the city from just above the terraced rooftops. Footpaths through the park still shielded from direct light by high trees and dense hedgerows. The air bright with new daylight.

Branches are bare. It’s cold enough for gloves. But something about the scene says Spring. Even away from the grove where daffodil shoots bristle out of the soil like spring onions. The implicit promise of a change of seasons.

 

Under your breath

rehearsing tomorrow’s presentation

as you walk

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