He stands alone in the still air the last bastion of civilization waiting for the breath of air to stir his pumps back to life and give him purpose once more and so he waits, a murmuration of Starlings his only company he stands alone in the still air
By the light of the moon by the light of a star she traveled all night from near to far searching for the crimson glade she walked the night through but she was not afraid for when the sun broke through with it’s dazzling light before her eyes lay a magical sight bright crimson ferns covered the forest floor and a tiny pine where there was none before
A tractor rests in the shade of the tree green grass still edges the fallow field while bright sun lights the sky and warms the stone and earth the undiscovered treasures of an ordinary life A moment to cherish the fading warmth of the growing season with all the harvesting done and the plenty of Summer put by a moment of thanks to remember before Winter gilds the landscape with bright diamonds of frost the beckoning treasures of an ordinary life
Time for another reach into the dark recesses of my creative mind. When I looked at the picture prompt, all I saw was Gaia weeping, dark clouds of tears. OK could, possibly been influenced by listening to Blackmore’s Night lately.
On a craggy old clifftop there once grew an elegant tree her branches were strong but it wasn’t too long ‘ere they named her “The Olde Hanging Tree”
Time and again, they strung up a man on branches barren of leaves stumps twisted and dark it soon broke her heart innocent souls lost on The Olde Hanging Tree
One day they brought a young woman practicing witchcraft she had been seen despite her innocent cries they condemned her to die by a rope hung from The Olde Hangin’ Tree
They left her choking and dying there came a terrible sound the wind gave a scream there on the ground lay the last branch of The Olde Hangin’ Tree
Now the tree blooms brightly in springtime, as the girl dances Tree and wind sing their song branches covered with leaves and she named her “Grandmother Tree”
Oh mistletoe, mistletoe hanging on the tree or hanging in the archway where lovers steal a kiss, or three but as a token of affection there’s really not much connection mistletoe for lovers seems a ghastly oversight kissing in the doorway beneath a hemiparasite eeeewwwww
When I am old I shall wear cotton skirts with combat boots which I shall carry as I muddy my hem walking barefoot in the forest I shall sit at the edge of the pond and dip my toes in the icy water I shall drink a cheap wine coolers from icy bottles on a summer day and I shall write my most secret wish upon a leaf, stuff it in the bottle and launch my wishes into the pond I’ll watch as it bobs away headed for it’s destination of nowhere but for now, I think I shall take off my sensible shoes and walk barefoot in my own grass, and write my wish on a leaf and blow it into the wind and practice a little for that time when I am old
word count 136
This post inspired by Crimsons Creative Challenge #200
Til next time ~don’t take life too seriously, you’re not gonna get out of it alive ~JP
Star gazed at the old boats with undisguised longing. They rested on a dry dock a stark reminder of the Water Elementals power. Oh how she missed the water, days with her family pulling in nets heavy with fish. With no natural rainfall and the cloud seeders struggling, boating was a luxury no longer even dreamed of. And so, Star brought out her small test kit and, finding the water fairly safe to drink, filled her canteens before walking on. A small smile stretched across her face at the memory of wet spray on her skin.