The tall, even pines with sand at their feet brood black between their trunks. The winter-dried reeds frozen solid in the iced-over marsh rustle in the western wind that blows from the red, red disk of the solstice sun solemnly sliding down the midwinter sky, hardly illuminating the winter-plowed field where the good black peat bog earth the steel plows had cut and turned has frozen solid like a sea in the midst of a storm, the peak of each earth wave touched with sun-blood, each dell breeding black shadows, breeding night. Night seeping from the tall pines. Night rising from the peat field, the sun spilling out into the frozen bog, spilling and sinking into the crackling ice.
First published in Residual Heat under my pseudonym Aga Black.