The Good Light

There is sometimes good light in London in December. I do not mean those mornings when the low sun shimes into your eyes so brightly that you cannot see, but the late morbings when the light is heavy and still and Christmas is in the weather close by.

The light is best on cloudy soft days when snow threatens but never comes, and the cloud covered sun has enough warmth to keep the roads and paths dry, as we pass them, dry and safe. I remember those days years ago when the good light of December filled my days, as it now fills my memory which once filled empties itself until the good December light brings it flooding back, imperfect, none too brightly to relieve feelings and senses, rather than words and faces.

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