Tinnitus: January, thin rain becoming ice

Now footsteps on shingle. Make of it what you will. Seabirds roost on the breakwaters, accustomed, of course, to twilight. The spirit lamp in that house on the headland could easily fall and spill and the fire burn all night. Some time later a subtle ghost, yourself  in memory perhaps, might well set foot up there amid clinker and smoke, the whole place silent and still except you bring in the tic of cooling timbers, and then the birds in flight. • Now chains through gravel. Make of it what you will.