Looking into the low winter sun across a reed bed the hanging seed heads took on a silvery light, a magical light; a chainmail luminescence that any photograph could never duplicate.
As we stared at the swaying stems they bent under the weight of tiny mouse like birds; Bearded Tits ‘chinked’ as they called to each other. Occasionally moving into the open but more often deep within the vegetation they hid among the myriad of stems. As quickly as they appeared they moved on and we were left with just the dancing reeds.
Letter From Norfolk 
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