Towards winter

10 02 2007

The sweet, musty smell of autumn leaves. Red like Shiraz. Ochre like the low setting sun. The moist trudging of Wellington boots along the woodland path.

Hand in hand they stroll. Bodies tilting towards each other; heads almost touching. Arms gently swinging backwards and forwards.

Their new home is being built, brick by brick in their conversation. A purpose for their life together now the children have grown. Each syllable flowing out in a puff of not quite frosted breath.

They walk on towards the future winter.

Freewriting exercise. Inspired by the taste of a bottle of Shiraz drunk last night which had a pleasant rotting leaves taste. I combined this with a memory of a couple on TV who were building a new house. Strange that I should think of autumn. I changed the last line from future to winter because I thought it captured their moment within the seasons of a lifetime better. I’m wondering if I could develop this into a series of poetry of something?




2 responses

10 02 2007


I like this one. You write well when you are drunk. The scene setting and colours does it for me. Keep it up!


26 02 2007
The marriage path « Jumping Puddles

[…] decided to rework the short piece ‘Towards Winter‘ because I thought the subject matter fitted well; the repetition of their steps in line with […]

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