Two dozen jackdaws sit in my neighbour's ash. They "chack, chack" to each other and, every few minutes, a few leave and are replaced. Four arrive, two leave, three arrive, six leave. They dot the ends of branches now clear of leaves. The three pinnacle twigs have a starling each.
Across the blue marbling of the sky, goldfinches dance. Their characteristic passage, half falling, half flying and "chit, chit" calls to the bobbing rhythm give them away.
The sun is lighting only reds. In the cornus stems, the deep peaches of a few clinging apple leaves, the rubies of holly fruits. The rest is muted with the shaken blackboard rubber frost.
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