Ashes- by Fiona Catherine Clark
Moonlit snow lies thick. Dark pines shelter the still garden, their shadows lie
elongated, spear-head sharp, onĀ crystal whiteness. Dawn comes late.
Moonlit snow lies thick. Dark pines shelter the still garden, their shadows lie
elongated, spear-head sharp, onĀ crystal whiteness. Dawn comes late.
Eventually, the trees end abruptly and you are at the lake, an expanse of white, bounded by trees and ice-encrusted granite.
Read More Ice Fishing – by Stephen Garrett