Monday 21 February 2011

El-Rukh with plumage in the making


Midwinter spring is its own season
Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown,
Suspended in time, between pole and tropic.
When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire,
The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches,
In windless cold that is the heart's heat,
Reflecting in a watery mirror
A glare that is blindness in the early afternoon.
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier,
Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire
In the dark time of the year.


TS Eliot - Little Gidding

Sunday 13 February 2011

He's here again

Monster with three ears.

Adding a circle and the right background makes a world of difference.

Sunday 6 February 2011

Eye


These are holes that were its eyes