Thursday, November 16, 2006

seeded by Fran's freefall writing course

I slip between the veils of two worlds,
'twixt sleep and dreaming,
between memory and anticipation
drifting on the current of mist rising from the fields in the early mornings,
in the sun's rays, on a leaf being carried down the stream,
caught in an occasional eddy
where I spiral uncontrollably until,
snagged on a hook of rock, I'm cast forth once again.
I drift upwards in the smoke of an autumn bonfire,
bright sparks flowering golden against the night sky,
a flower that lasts but a few seconds, withers and dies.
On a vapour from a pot of stew I rise,
tantalising the nostrils of the gypsy bent over the fire,
sparks of light flashing off her golden earrings and from the lights in her eyes.


At 7:31 AM, Blogger Vi Jones said...

This, Traveller, is such lovely prose.


At 3:21 PM, Blogger Gail Kavanagh said...

Beautiful. A seed that has blossomed with life.

At 5:42 AM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

Loved reading this.

At 6:22 PM, Blogger Lois said...

'Twixt between sleep and dreaming
I can drift with you Traveller,
smell the aroma of the campfire stew ...and never in past years thought of a camp fire being so described us mere mortals it was just a place to gather and cook the evening meal in good company...I shall never be so ignorant again....thank you for such a beautiful piece of writing ..Lois(Muse of the Sea)


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