Imbolic 2007Midwinter's moonlaying lowjust above the treesOpen, full and widespilling lightfilling the whole earthMoondrops roll gentlydripping from the dark breastsand round belliesof the mountainspooling deep in the meadowsHeavy moon-drenched snowweighing the low tree's branches
Finding Beauty 01I was out looking for the perfect violet. I though I had found one, and had just picked it, it's stem sturdy and strong in my hands, when I found Her laying in a bed of fresh green aspen leaves, their round, slightly serrated edges framing the bright fallen-leaf copper of her curling hair. Her pale face peaked in a sharp little chin. Her long, pale lashes fell on round cheeks that shined with the matte glow of a fresh-fallen yellow apple. And then I saw her wings. Transparent as a dragonfly's, they draped gracefully over her narrow back, mingling with the aspen leaves. Each had an infinitely delicate vein system in crystalline-shimmering gold, and where the veins became to small to see, I couldn't really tell if her wing was there until a slight movement made the light refract off them in a golden sparkling rainbow. I could have watched her sleeping forever, but, clumsy I, I stepped on the smallest of dry twigs, snapping it loudly.