Green WaltzGreen Waltz.Green Waltzin writing
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Slender fingers carefully cutting. Outside in deep red, the sun rising, a slow charge against the retreating night. Slender fingers cutting shapes. Outside in red, deadwood limbs sway as light strengthens. Her little fingers, snipping scissors, busy cutting. Red, orange sky with hints of encroaching blue now, dry limbs swaying, waving the passing time goodbye. Little fingers collect the cutout shapes, discard offcuts and pick up a crayon. Outside blueness prevails. Busy green crayons colour shapes. Through the window upright and bare against the clear blue sky, the trees. Little hands brush green coloured shapes from the table into the mouth of a sad old leather bag. She goes out, amongst the parched copses under the cloudless blue sky.
A short walk over the hill flanked by the tall naked stickmen. To the one she chose some weeks before. He stands alone not the biggest, small, just a little taller than herself. From her pocket a ball of string, old and yellow. Little