Long Shadow

After the dark mornings of mist and rain a frost has arrived. The silvered landscape of grasses and leaves, crisp in the new sunlight, cannot escape the oncoming winter. Across this cold earth I silently move, reaching over ploughed furrows and emerging corn. A glossy backbird on scarlet hawthorn watches me from above as the golden light brings brilliance to the fiery colours of tree and hedgerow. I reach out to the wary pheasants, the chattering fieldfares and hunting buzzard. Beneath the cloudless blue sky I belong with the sunrise for a few minutes before I gradually retreat back to hold the frost in the hollows and shade.

I am Long Shadow.