The magic hour.

The magic hour sunset

When the sun breaks
Brightens the grass
To crisp, blinding green.
When rays of light
Ebb and flow
Over raindrops;
Sparkling fields.
And in the distance
Black cows
Like holes in a canvas
Like shadows
Stand unchanged,
While the colour fades
To muted fog.
And one by one
The raindrops play
A melody once more.

– jl


Last week, something magic happened. I wrote my first poem in years. The endless flow of card games and wine may have helped. But honestly. There’s nothing better for the soul than a week at my mother-in-law’s gorgeous 20 acre property. It’s the stuff of dreams. And many a magic hour … enjoy. xJ

My mother-in-law's spectacular house