3rd April 1671

Soft early drifts of morning run thick with monsters hugging shadows and bellowing my name, all thoughts of peace and quiet dissipate like spring frost upon windows. My shoeless feet pad the cobbled streets followed by the clacking of an unwanted  table and chair who have now become comrades and bedfellows to my journey. By afternoon hard rain forces refuge in allyways where we eat of meagre foods and ponder our path. As I watch my new found friends slumber under stolen blankets I think of  my future paths and seasons and how thin on the ground firewood might be come winter.

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