it's here again,
that old feeling.
chocolate on the fingers,
beethoven on the tongue.
i can feel the rhymes of the season
falling like snowflakes,
a sudden thrill of expectancy
as children raise their voices
along with the excitement in the hearts.
outside a chill wind threw wasted leaves into bundles of confusion that gathered in crumpled corners by kerbsides and drains. a threat of snow brewed in the scudding clouds that drew harbour in the glowering sky, throwing down dark shade as by way of anchor. the Tipple family hugged themselves beside the empty fire grate while out in the lanes, Tar MacApple limped along, a folded newspaper under one arm and a box wrapped in glittery material under the other. . .
hushed and hungry the field mice cowered as over head a solitary falcon hung nailed to the horizon. a bird crucified by the ravenous efforts of the nature that had made it. . .
alison sat on her bed, reading a book entitled 'Twilight'. the thought of vampires living in close proximity to her excited her beyond belief. if only she could be as lucky as Bella and fall in love with one of the undying dead. . .
vicar tailor teef lit a candle and genuflected in front of a statue of The Christ. the statue cast a long shadow that fell like a finger. a finger that pointed to the church doors. a finger that promised the blessings of God...
somewhere faraway a very elderly gentleman supped on his soup. the soup was, naturally enough, tomato flavoured with herbs and a dash of Worcester sauce. he sat at an old wooden table that had seen many a feast. tonight though everyone was busy and the old man was all alone except for his wife who stood at the stove stirring a stew. she had prepared the ingredients earlier and now was going through the process of seasoning and cooking the meal for when the old man returned from his tour of duty. she looked over her shoulder and chuckled to her self seeing her husbands beard with flecks of red coated on it.
"wipe your beard you silly old fool. you have soup in it!"
the old man smiled and brushed a napkin across his whiskers.
"i let it drip there a'purpose," he grinned, "something to eat on the way back!"
his wife clucked her disapproval but giggled all the same.
"you will have food a plenty by the time you get back, i am making you a stew."
he completed his break fast and then dressed pulling on a pair of thick boots, a huge fur lined coat and a large hat that hugged his ears. he shunted his vehicle out into the blizzard that greeted him, huffing warm air into his curled mittens as the snow span and spiralled around him. high above the stars winked and worlds beyond our keen gathered their days and nights to them in cold comfort. with the whatever gods there are to bless him, the old man climbed aboard an impossible vessel that defied the puny laws of logic and science.
"here we go again." he smiled.
all words and art are copyright © of C.J. Duffy.