By Hand

A Jersey Giant rooster with smooth glossy black plumage and a large red single comb, in a camel wool overcoat over a cream roll-neck, seated upright like a gentleman on a weathered wooden garden bench beside a low white picket gate, folded black wing feathers resting on his knees and scaled dark grey rooster legs with talons on a gravel path, a single plain cream envelope lying face down on the bench beside him and a white enamel mug, a plain green-painted wooden letterbox on the gatepost, a clipped beech hedge turning copper behind him in soft mid-morning autumn light

One Envelope, Addressed in Ink

Most mornings the post brings a catalogue and a bill he had already guessed at. Today there was a single envelope, addressed by hand, and he has carried it as far as the bench by the gate and no further. He means to open it presently; for now the hedge, the cold coffee and the envelope are all of the morning he requires.

9 October 2026