It has probably been said many times but the angle of the winter sun is a nuisance. It is low in the sky, reflects from wet roads, shows up the dirt on car windscreens and has probably caused accidents; but there is a beauty about it and it was there first long before the first car was built.
The bright winter sun pierces the thin air,
bouncing from slick, white pavements,
through windows, dazzling coldly those who stare,
wrinkling foreheads, crinkling faces, falsely ageing.
The steel, blue background to the chilly fire ball,
allows vapour to trace patterns with its cloudy finger,
to be viewed and interpreted by those who see all,
and to enjoy the short-lived glorious sight.
The fickle winds return edged with lowering cloud,
pushing away the crisp gloriousness into memory,
heralding a damp greyness and foggy shroud,
covering the previously optimistic vision,
till next time.
©David L Atkinson January 2017
That's all you get this week folks.