Explore #371 on Sunday, February 1, 2009
Pale moon shines ever brighter as the last bird flies home to it's
Nostrils tickled by tentative and hopeful wisps of pungent smoke.
Chilling swiftly; a time to settle down to eat, to drink, to sleep and rest,
To watch the embers light and burn as smouldering wood is poked.
by Athena's Pix
Have a listen to this by Norah Jones...