Last month the skies were filled with darting swallows, the breeze carried their cries and the air hung sweet with the smells of summer.
But the day came when I looked up and the sky was empty. The swallows had gone.
The leaves curl brown. The days shorten and the sunset creeps ever westward along the ridge.
The seasons turn.
Beautiful photograph. I know what you mean the season turn, but there is always the promise of the spring.
ReplyDeleteAh Paul, but all the fun of winter to come first ;-)
ReplyDelete