Thursday, October 25, 2007

Ode to a Bog

(photo: Pinchgut Tickle, St. Mary's Bay, NL)

Haven't written it yet. Waiting for that autumnal light to return. The one that prickles every part of your skin. That makes you see, really see the colours, shape and texture of the smallest hair on the tip of a rosehip. The one that has you breathing deeply on hikes in the woods, not because you're out of breath, but because the blasty boughs and sodden leaves are playing sweet duets. That makes the smokey flavour of a partridgeberry, curled on the back of the tongue, quite possibly the best wine you've tasted. The one that has you ready to read the next chapter.

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