We fade into March. The days shed their numbers and resolve themselves back to a wilder calendar; the rotation of sun and moon, the coming of warm light on your skin and the cold flutters as the sky ebbs down to a smoulder. Sparrows natter. The clouds make slow passage across the pale blue infinity. Tired eyes close for a moment and feel the wash of cooling air moseying in through the open window. The blinds sway and paint animated lines on the dry wallpaper. We are spent. Yet the rotations of the earth march on. Take refuge, traveller, in these small moments.
Paddy Dobson
1st March 2021