the-darkling-thrush

The Darkling Thrush – Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt…

Heather's Musings

In Limbo

Heather’s Musings – In Limbo I am finding it quite hard to write my blog this week. I feel I am in limbo – on a retreat/holiday until the end of the week – and then back to a life full of change, with lots to do, although I can’t do any of it yet.…