The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

2 December 2002

Etched in the darkness

Half an hour before dawn. A sliver of moon hangs unsteadily above; only the vaguest hint of sunlight peeks over the horizon. The trees offer their bare limbs in supplication. The winds are hushed; only the occasional motor vehicle disturbs the silence.

Would that every winter's day began this way.

Posted at 6:52 AM to Weather or Not