The house bricks flare in the setting sun.
The trees shine with the light of green and of gold.
Shadows grow, shadows dance, the sea of night cuts through.
Flowers still bloom, some hidden, some clear, but this is mid-winter?
The bark of trees, leaves fallen and brown, a winter reminder of the summer to come .
By the door, a black spider, a faint flash of red, gathered around it the remains of its last meal.
A long legged fly on the fence, another sits in the sun.
A wood pile knot, the eye of a tree, seems to look out on the passing day. But it can’t really see.
The hours tick over, a day comes and goes.