The children looking at gulls on ice. I’m thinking of children behind bars.
Late afternoon: my son and daughter, on the way home from school, try to get warm in the anaemic, atomic flush.
We, At This Time
A virginal shroud settles upon our abodes.
Fairy lights flicker in the long night.
Inside, all manner of songs and odes
are offered to acclaim our rite.
Those of us not overtly religious
indulge themselves out of tradition.
Those of us not openly pious
offer tacit prayers without petition.
But all desire to feel the joy
that shines forth from every child's eyes.
An augury, in innocence's employ,
that lifts the soul amongst the winter skies.
Though we partake in the gathered feast,
and survive the night imbibing wine,
we recognise, when all has ceased,
that part of man inherently divine.
©Andrew James Murray
I saw this photograph on Facebook: winter, 1906.
At first glance, I thought the woman had a particularly large hat, until I realised it is the tree towering behind her.
And those two men beneath the bowlers? Perhaps they ended up reincarnated as the Kray Twins.
Got to love these winter mornings, when the hoary Queen captures the impotent King.