The Linnet's Wings The Winter´s Tale, Ravens and Robins - Page 64

The Winter´s Tale Still Life by Akeith Walters There’s no secret code written in the dust on the coffee table, no incredible winter warning peeling skins off the bowl of fruits, at least none that I’ve found. So what if brown leaves have begun to blow across the cobbled path outside the front door? We would walk anyway, bundled-up with our breaths icy grey, our speckled hands clutching each other, knobby knuckles stressed in the effort to never let go. Our parents and even our parents’ parents, before their own sunlit shades began to fade into thedark, told us to be prepared. But how could we, when the glistening skin of summer heat still holds the pounding beat of our hearts in our throats as we lie together entangled in that cliche of tangled sheets while Autumn’s late afternoon lingers like a distant thought slanting through the window of our senses, the curtains nothing more than a gentle billow of the evening to come, a distraction to go unnoticed. 64