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We have to go back, Kate!
Join Date: Apr 2004
Location: Yorkshire
Posts: 25,964
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Okay, I've been playing with it - no major changes, but have altered the layout and punctuation, to try and make the rhythm clearer.
For Cherry A cloud breaks on the Chevin, tumbles its cargo down, to the town below, where, a beaded bench stands silent vigil. The birds know why. Passers-by wonder at, their sudden stillness. Far away and somewhen else, through the stark beauty, of a snow-decked Glasgow, three ladies of a certain age, slip sliding down frozen streets. One in biker boots, another in sturdy shoes, the third in day-glo platform trainers, to better suit her mood. They are laughing, easy, it is clear that they are friends. One slips, the others reach out their hands. They share a taxi, a meal, and inconsequential tales, of cats in suitcases, and rings of bells. They smile for the camera, wave hello to their friends, raise a toast to the flash, of the chef’s spinning blades. The moment is caught. The stillness of the image, a pregnant pause, in a silent film, repurposed to a Christmas card. I smile back, at the faces in my hand. We don’t move. Our light is caught, full twinkle. But I think I hear an echo, a faint burst of raucous laughter. Inside, in a bold font, she had christened us: ‘The Three Christmasteers’ Used a photograph from the previous year. And now, it leaps out at me. Shuffled, from the little pile of kept things. A reminder, of where we were, at the top of the hill, before the bench and the birds.
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