Eliza Daley ~ Wordcraft & Musing on Home & Hope
there is a sacred spring down the lane yea, truly, though abandoned by utility desecrated by profanity there is a tiny bit of the elysian just down the lane a spring bedight in candles, coins, rags, riches scraps of superstition supplication alms and oblation just down the lane and surreptitiously they come seeking lucidity seeking… Continue reading The Clootie Tree
Eve woke up with the birds each morning. The piping and burbling of thousands of little brown birds in the reeds, so numerous in kind they’d not even managed to name them all. The deep thrum of the lake birds rising in unison, swirling around Eve’s camp on the edge of the marshland in vast… Continue reading Eve
She was fourteen. She’d spent the last eighteen months rocketing from childhood to adolescence, growing over eight inches taller and billowing out in all sorts of unwelcome ways. Unwelcome to her, that is. She did notice that others found her new curves not at all objectionable, but there was a new awkwardness in these boys… Continue reading Snow Moon
The Ameracauna hen has gone walk-about again. Third time this month. I’ve clipped her wings twice since she molted. There are no holes in the slump block wall; I’ve walked it twice this week. And the gate is as enveloped in chicken wire as it can be and still admit sunlight. If her pretty blue… Continue reading Errant and Unexpected
The old river god gently laid the sleeping twin boys on the bank. She watched as he sadly backed away from the shore and melted into his domain. Just before he vanished he looked up and met her eyes, charging her with this task in that one glance. He knew her well. She would never… Continue reading Romulus and Remus
There were no shadows in the winds that day… Mom had diabetes. Turns out intermittent refrigeration wasn’t the only hazard awaiting the insulin-dependent. No, in the end it was a few years of consecutive losses for Eli Lily. Granted, this was largely because of the increased cost of refrigerated shipping, but still. The problem wasn’t… Continue reading Candlemas Augury
And he saw his shadow… The barn door knocks against its frame, sending staccato signals into the night. Nobody out there to interpret the message. All these ghost ranchitos. Only me in here, and I know the message: that barn door needs to be rehung. If I can find the hardware. I watch as the… Continue reading Sunny Day Forecast
This is the time of the Wolf Moon, the time of year when food stores in traditional cultures are dwindling. This is when cold is probing its sharp fingers through iced windows. The nights are still long, but usually by the Wolf Moon the lengthening of daylight is perceivable.
A bit of poetry for today.
Found in a reverse time capsule dated 1/20/2200: "Our ancestors so much did for us. Things that were expensive and difficult and didn’t even benefit them. They placed hope in the future so that we could have a future. I appreciate everything they did. I wish there were time machines so I could go back and tell them how grateful I am. And to let them know that everything worked out well, that it wasn’t all for nothing. It was all for us."
By My Solitary Hearth 