Sunday, 18 December 2011


Tiny

Ice crystals form
On a fence post
As the temperature drops
Bellow freezing
In the countryside
The crystals form triangles
And a 1000 tiny fingers
Insignificant
But real and connected and with purpose
On a grave
By a church
Alive and asleep
With roles to play anyway

Not unlike the giant ancient  tortoise out of The Never-ending Story

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