Until Next Time

Time slows

In the dewy-promised morning of a welcome unfolding, my limbs and words reach out to those long unseen.

In a hot afternoon of mid-day revelry, hearing delighted cheers from the joust over the hill, playing tag with the sunlight to not burn my skin,

In the smell of the blacksmith’s fire as it stings the back of my throat and the soft fragrance of honey from the slowly melted wax,

Time slows.

Around the soft wool plaid-covered dining table and softly falling ash from the open fire, eating freshly simmered stew off  oversize wooden spoons, next to elders and the younger, all helping cast off, understand, and slow down the mundane dragging of life,

Reclining in swirling pipe smoke, calling out insults and verbal barbs with kinsmen, wrapping my tongue around thick pronunciation and enjoying their faces as they consider a comeback, reveling in their creativity,

Oh, how time slows.

Watching nature wake up, a rain of inchworms becoming a cloud of butterflies, verdant leaves, flowers, and a wee hidden sheep cushioning the visual space.

Air thickens with humidity until the tantalizing promise of rain finally blows through the glen, where nothing can thwart the pulse of life and joy that moves through.

A final exhausted circle of dusty day-worn bodies teasing, jovial and affectionate. Hands passing flasks and bottles around, each one carefully and considerately conserving a sip to share and make room for the next,

Time slows.

Alas, it does not stop, and so, until next time…

*Inspired by Day 1, Writing 101

Pale Whisper – The Loss Trilogy, Pt. 1

Something I was thinking about this morning coincides with the Writing 101 prompt to write about a loss: my birth father and the loss of him, or rather, the absence of him, in my life.  I don’t know that I can say “loss,” ‘cause I don’t remember a time I “had” him. I’ve talked about him a bit before, and I’ve said that he’s abusive, but I haven’t gone into detail about what he did.

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Song Stream-Of-Consciousness

Three songs that are the most important to me

An exercise in the WordPress writing 101 exercises, just type and go for 15 minutes without stopping or editing or fixing or crossing out. So here we go.

It’s hard to pick three. The first one that comes to mind is Silent Lucidity by Queensreich. That was a big deal for me when I was a kid.  When I was in eigth grade. Dad was abusive and school sucked and I was lost.  That song made me feel like maybe I wasn’t so fucked up as I thought, but maybe everything else was fucked up. Maybe I was a normal reaction to a fucked up situation. I thought it was SOO deep, and I loved the voice of the woman plainly asking, “help me.”  Because no one was helping me at the time.

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The Morning it Started

His booted feet covered the dew-covered grass of the empty field until he reached the well-worn wooden bridge. The creek below was slightly swollen and the thick air around him hung low, promising  to entrap anything in its grasp. The smell of mud was strong around him, but the white gravel on the main road protected him from sinking too deep into it.

He continued off the main pebble-covered path to another bridge, this one covered by vines from nearby trees and adorned with plaid red and blue ribbons and bells. Here in the glen the trees were thicker, but so was the mud.

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