A cuttle wind from the east skirrs disconsolate crows to peck at stony earth. Ice grimes the riverbank, a frozen record of the last high tide. Ashen mud shudders, shrinks below, leaving the naked reeds to whisper stories of winters dead.
Winter River.
dominique cameron RSW 
I’m shivering reading this – did you sketch this outside? brrrrr
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Ha ! Well I did take my sketchbook but honestly it was just so so cold, I couldn’t take my gloves off for more than a moment. I wrote the words in my head whilst I was walking and then came back and did the ink sketch as a response. Shivering is a good feeling to have captured ! 🙂
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Quite raw and very atmospheric.
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Thanks Ian .
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