Tree imps in the fog

Walking home last night was almost like being on a beautiful film set.

 All around me, everything was twinkling with frost.

My feet crunched on the brick pavement, strangely noisy in the thick silence. A heavy fog had rolled in, like a wash of intense watercolour – china white mixed with a dab of indigo.

The street-lamps shone through the fog like gleaming beacons.

And then I looked up and saw these dancing branches – I thought they looked stunning.

And when I think of them now, I can see them morphing into leaping, giggling, gangly-limbed imps...

Pearl  

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