When the crescent cuts its slice of night and the Pleiades take each other by the arm, I ride out to the iron gate at the edge of town. Here the stones of yesterday mark well the sleep of both old friends and foes and it is here I sit and wait for sorrow to fall, heavy like the sheets of rain in a thunderstorm, blacker than the clouds that bring it. But as the stars blink their silver eyes in high oblivion, I realize my heart no longer needs to bleed these tears and it is long past the hour of my retiring. My horse exhales and stamps his hooves, urging me to end my reverie and as I rise, I feel released of my imagined burden and see that the sky of my life remains clear.
Marie Frizelle
WRAPPED UP IN WORDS – Prose, Poetry and Positivity
Oh yeah. Your words are balm. Plain and beautiful balm. Keep weaving words you lovely woman. It’s a knack for you.
I just want to keep you in my pocket and carry you around everywhere so you can tell me such lovely things all day.
Lol! Call me a keychain then ’cause I’m there. Anything to keep you writing.
Whirlwinds and tempests. The deluge of the past days have cleansed my soul too often lost in the shifting tides that here I find. Oh to stand with you under that silver star whose bright indifference brings sweet respite! All of my horses are seahorses and they dance in the shimmering depths calling me free myself from the tethers of earthen rootedness to glide fearlessly beneath the moonlight… if just for tonight. Betwixt and between are any number of dreams which lay in burning dormancy. I am casting runes among the seaweed… Your words are a song from an ancient land. You inspire, invoke, enchant…
I do miss the days when we did stand together and sometimes mourn all the time and distance that have separated us these long years. The memories of the strange and wonderful days of our youth. So glad you are still on my horizon.