Bounty

‘Make much of something small. The pouring-out of tea, a drying flower’s shadow on the wall from last week’s bouquet. A fact; it isn’t summer anymore. Say that December sun is pitiless, but crystalline and strikes like a bell. Say it plays colours like a glockenspiel. It shows the dust as well, the elemental sediment your broom has missed, and lights upon each grain of sugar spilled upon the tablecloth, beside pistachio shells, peel of a clementine. Slippers and morning paper on the floor, and wafts of heat from rumbling… Read more Bounty →