“…morning sunlight touches limestone. Only the butler’s measured footsteps bringing the morning tea break into the reverie of the dawn chorus, lifting the dew from peony, lavender and burdock…”
“…the pale light of evening shrinks to deep cerulean. A crow calls from its silent glide across the fingernail moon, suspended amidst the gentle stillness, over leaf, fern, bark and branch, darkening into this mystic moment’s forest…”
“…the afternoon freshness lays down to rest between shadows lengthening from the willow and swaying oaks. An abandoned book and ruffled rug lie patiently awaiting someone’s return, as lilting voices drift with the clouds towards a golden horizon…”
