Eliza Daley ~ Wordcraft & Musing on Home & Hope
It’s burning again. Look out across this river valley at the old volcano warts and there doesn’t seem to be enough to keep a churro fed, never mind an inferno. What’s it eating when there’s nothing but grit and gravel and black rock? I don’t go over that way enough to puzzle out that riddle.… Continue reading Desert Pyre: Winifred Mumbles
Nine thousand years. Maybe ten. Maybe fifteen. Five hundred generations. Of humans that is. Nine thousand generations of this. Nine thousand years of fields green with three sisters. The gold of tassels, rust of pods, sun orange and berry red of squash. I feel the breath of my ancestors in these gardens, stirring leaves and… Continue reading 9000 Years (Winifred Mumbles)
Churros are restive out there in the darkness. Should probably be concerned. Takes a lot to worry an animal with four horns. Shearing makes them irritable, but not sleepless. Something different out there bothering them. New note to the night air. What is it? Got this old saying tumbling around in my old head. Something… Continue reading Nothing But Blue Skies (Winifred Mumbles)
By My Solitary Hearth 