Here it comes.

Have been outside in the air. It is getting to my time of year, bring on the lovely winter, hats and breath, the beautiful cold! Bring it, pale and bitter to ankles on train platforms, to red noses and fingers nested together in humid woollen gloves. Wind around your scarves and huddle into coats packed tight with jumpers and t-shirts, so your arms stick out when you walk. Bring the footprints and the leaf halos on my pavements, bring me the clear black water that no longer moves, and the last dwindling leaf pegged to the top of a tree, too late. Bring the slip and the slide of it, the milk pushed up out of its bottle, the berries shouting from hedges, yew, holly, rosehip. Bring dark streets and bright windows. Small dogs in absurd coats. The smell of nothing.

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