‘Minor Hours’ by Max Wallis

  Minor Hours Wake before bells fall when rain chatters at blinds and the haze of dawn is so thin you could slip through the light and press yourself against another world. Lie there and listen to the brook that gutters across the stones. Outside you know foxes gnaw at takeaways in bins. A cub perches on top of an Audi, blithely confused at an … Continue reading ‘Minor Hours’ by Max Wallis