Thursday 28 August 2014

Pigeon's feet

For a moment things would be real to her,
as when they drove round a wide turning in the road
and she saw a thatched yellow cottage standing in the embrace of the turn,
plum-coloured mountains and a violent green field beyond it, 
and hanging heavy over the stone wall an elder tree heavy in fruit.
So heavy the berries had grown that their flat growth fell forwards
and downwards showing their backs, a web of berries, like pigeons' red feet.
Only by moments such as this was she entirely conscious.

Full House by Molly Keane


  1. So beautifully and evocatively written. And a reminder to live in the moment...

  2. Everyday sights closely observed and beautifully transcribed into words. You do that so well, too.