Today is a quiet day.
A day when even the birds seem to be away.
I listen out purposefully for the blackbirds that usually greet me in the morning, but they're not there. I look for the swallows that etch their mistakes above the rooftops opposite my window, but they too, are gone.
Perhaps it's the bruised clouds that have driven them away, the smell of rain in the air that has sent them to their nests or perhaps they simply have a desire for their own silence today, a silence that is only possible through their absence.
A day when even the birds seem to be away.
I listen out purposefully for the blackbirds that usually greet me in the morning, but they're not there. I look for the swallows that etch their mistakes above the rooftops opposite my window, but they too, are gone.
Perhaps it's the bruised clouds that have driven them away, the smell of rain in the air that has sent them to their nests or perhaps they simply have a desire for their own silence today, a silence that is only possible through their absence.
