Blackened pine beams angle above the doorway, framing this stone house. A plain door with sporadic wandering eyes watches my sleep. Black iron latches keep me safe. Above my bed, I track the places where branches once span out of this tree trunk, follow the flight of a dark bird.
2 comments:
It seems that your Wales trip has inspired some great writing.
I love the stark colours of this piece. And the meeting between the real and the imagined.
The little house I stay in has great character and I'm sure it has many interesting and strange stories to tell. It is stark in a way, but then you light the fire and the fairytale imaginings begin.........I would love to spend more time there.
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