She Stepped Lightly...

(image source)

She stepped lightly onto the breath of the west wind. Rising higher in the blue light, ribbons of sunlight and cool clouds caressed her, streaming out towards the sea birds as they twisted up and out of the waves. They soon reached her, their wings mimicking the roll of the air around her, and together they danced towards the twinkling lights, towards the flames that had called them into the night.

The Sound Of Trees...

(image source)

The sound of trees, now so lost in the hot, still breath of summer, nevertheless broke through the surface of the old woman's mind and memory. Sitting still and dark, along the island's shoreline, they sweltered in the heat and in the relentless tumult of her drowning, sad thoughts. The water they guarded, so loyally, held so many treasures. So many hearts. So many beloved hands and eyes and kind deeds now held fast and down. Now held away from her, forever.

The Old World Had Sunk...

(image source)

The old world had sunk beneath the snow. All that remained hung on black boughs - golden leaves, crisp and curled, and bright baubles of fresh flakes, glinting in the moon-glow. The rider had travelled far that night, a slow procession beneath the beams of moon and the vast, dark woodland. Muffled echos, crunch and thump - the hooves moved along the white path. Soon they both saw horizon. Soon they were at the meeting place. They waited.

It Must Be Near Night Now...

(image source)

It must be near night now. But the sky had looked near night all day, the sun had wandered and let billowing, breaking breath - such miserable sighs - rise and unwind themselves across the rooftops. Not fearing night, or the grey unwieldy sky, I saw her venture out. Down the path towards the holloway. Black bracken rising as the path sunk ever lower. Once, she looked back at me.

Into The Storm Light...

(image source)

Into the storm light she turned her head. Sodden, twisting clouds raced around her vision, bringing with them a silence in the air. The birds had stopped singing, yet she took a breath. She inhaled the vapour, separating scents of blue cloud, hot mist and the earth last seen between petals. She exhaled - lost songs, unfurling moist breath of colour, blooming. The air cracked.