Jan 16, 2025
Acceptance
by Kerry Hardie
Yesterday it was still January and I drove home and the roads were wet and the fields were wet and a palette knife
had spread a slab of dark blue forestry across the hill. A splashed white van appeared from a side road then turned off and I drove on into the drab morning
which was mudded and plain and there was a kind of weary happiness that nothing was trying to be anything much and nothing was being suggested. I don’t know how else to explain
the calm of this grey wetness with hardly a glimmer of light or life, only my car tyres swishing the lying water, and the crows balanced and rocking on the windy lines.
