29 January 2013
Driving into Belfast this morning the rising sun rose deep yellow from the hills across the lough. The sky above looked like an upside down blanket of snow, cloud folds lit by the sunlight. It brought a gasp to the lips at the beauty.
This afternoon the rain fell heavy making road-rivers for car wheels to slip and splutter through and people to grumble at.
The same lips to gasp and to grumble, and the rain and the sun to feed them.
Lips • Opuss № I