The Churchyard Summer is Another Country

A rare lunchtime missive, as I have had to pop home to recharge my mp3 player...
A bright and cold day.
Exhausted with a strange kind of euphoria.
Walking back here, the day smelt kind of crumpled; old attics, firesmoke, dust. Something gamiliar, yet knew. This smell has been haunting this autumn - well, now turning into winter.
Summer is another land now.
I remember lying in the churchyard along the Old Shoreham Road on too hot summer days after signing on, listening to the wind through the trees.
Another fifteen minutes and then I must head back to work.