black water
Today we get up and go out early, long before dawn. The crispness – the bite – of autumn has been slow to come this year, but the past few mornings I’ve felt its teeth. Today I notice small ponds, black water, heavy, still… reluctant to move, resisting the faint stirrings of the morning air. Wisps of vapour rise undisturbed, idly twining their way into the light, into thin air, into nothingness.
