(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

[reginaclarejane.livejournal.com]

i second that "bravo", my friend! sorry it took me so long to get to this- hubby's home, you see... ;)
the middle verse is my favorite- i love the hesitancy of it...
gorgeous, nic.
thank you.
xo

[wytchcroft.livejournal.com]

i'm glad you liked it :))

actually, hesitancy is something that runs through the larger (and,um, weirder) piece this is a part of (and which i'll post tomorrow) - i'll be interested to know whether that aspect works or becomes grating.

and i'm very happy for you and the hubby to be together again - somethings do take precedence my dear, heh heh:)))