Morning

I was inspired to do this by an article in a newspaper about a poet who writes a daily tweet (140 characters) about his morning stroll through his Yorkshire village. I've decided I'm going to try to do the same but based on my paper-round and I'll be posting it here as I don't have twitter.
It will probably just be silly little observations and metaphors and probably not worth reading but I thought it would be a nice challenge for the year ahead.

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339. 5th May

 Morning. Aged and tired like half-worn socks, the holey sky is a patchwork quilt of rags. Leaves tremble beneath it in the sharp north wind.

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