The Dark Months is a series of moods in words, expressing fleeting feelings and thoughts, usually with a photograph or two to look at – view the series here.
The Dark Months – Thirteen
There’s something unbelievably precious about sunlight in the dark months. So it was with a spring in our steps, before the day’s labours began, that we hastened to the park, where the sun beat down and the view was of Crystal Palace.
In the precious light everyone stood still. Even the dogs settled, tails gently swaying. The sound of distant traffic softened with each passing second, disappearing. A gossamer caress of warmth on the skin wrote a smile across faces; a ripple of love.
To an outsider looking in, it would have seemed as though we were communing, bringing into being the great, bright orb in the sky. As one.
And in a way, each of us was.
Our meditations filling a void.
Spirals of red, green and blue, pulsing and casting ever wider waves behind the eyelids.
Until with a deep breath, opening our eyes, the clash and whirl of colours echoes in the clamour of a big city, bringing into being a startling light.