Just a little drabble I wrote while working on the mac on the Embankment side of the building, overlooking the Thames…
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The mingling weave of bare twigs seem to hide the river from view, not that its soapy glisten was all that distinguishable from the white clouds masking the brilliance of the sun. And yet the soft lulls of the fast-moving current become irrelevant amidst the blanket of dusky brown, crossing, and shattering the picturesque blend of condensation behind it. These small, insiginifcant twigs which I could snap between 2 fingers or my toes, these vulnerable miniature branches with now eight of their own, nary a pigeon could sit for a mere moment without crashing to the ground. And yet they bleed importance across the spectrum, even with the maginificent Thames and South Bank stamping its feet in its bid for attention, creating an intimate, natural display of tranquility in the hub of the city.
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