Dawn is held back, reluctant. The skylight window pane is awash. The wind whips the tall birch, slaps leaves and winged seeds against the glass.
Clouds lour and, for a moment, lighten. The rain halts and blackbirds appear in the birch trees. Where were they in the wild time? The whistling wind is gone but the sky grows darker, presaging rain.
Last night, the clocks went back an hour. Not sure when we are. Rain spits and gurgles and the light fades for Halloween, the eve of all saints..