(hey regina, hey ms o') quick preview

[wytchcroft]

stout and branch-like waving, catching the breath of dawn, the momentary fog.

I used to be a – there was a place to – something I was supposed to – waving branches in the ghost of a breeze.
This is where the hedgehogs creep, all the small animals, and insects... marking their territory.
Should a tree feel proud or embarrassed?

She becomes a flower, the wild roses thickly plumed. She catches rain on her petals, the sun plays on her shoots. I become a bee, dizzy swooping with a song to set the whole wood buzzing, nature’s love of gold pollened honey and the flower
closes up with a snap.

............................
seemed rude to post this under your piece regina but... y'see?
and thanks, as ever, julie 0 :)) 

Comments

[inmyocean.livejournal.com]

Oh! I am a fan of this "fragment". Love the descriptions, Wytch -- bravo! :)

[wytchcroft.livejournal.com]

thank you my dear :))