The Land of Melting Shadows

There once was a land, no further away than your imagination. A Land where the Trees’ whispers can be heard on the wind. And the squirrels chitter and chatter as they scamper to and fro amongst the branches - playing their endless game of tag.

A Land where the Brooks babble endlessly amid fern covered banks. Fish and Tadpoles play a game of Leapfrog in the clear, cool water and Turtles sunbathe nearby.

A Land where the tall Grasses sway in the breeze as if dancing to a distant tune. Wild flowers wave their petals at the busy Bees who fly by; Beckoning to them. Enticing them.

A Land where the Deer graze peacefully in the lush, green valleys. A Land where the Birds and the Faeries gather in the bushes of an evening to share the day's gossip. And the Frog serenade, with Cricket accompaniment, continues well into the night.

A Land where the morning sun melts the night into the shadows of the day. And at sunset the shadows melt into night. But there are times when the shadows melt into things best left to one’s imagination.

A Land of Melting Shadows.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

The Dance

The Dance

Jeanne Gripp

In the early morning twilight, the dancers frolicked upon the water.

The twisting and twirling soon gave way to sensuous intertwining.

Each passing moment caused more of the Dancers to arise. Never one alone but many together. Each with its own unique way of rising to greet the dawn. Their fingers stretching to touch the treetops. Every move a fluid motion of both love and death.

As the morning light crept upwards, the dance became almost frantic, the dancers trying ever so hard to make the magick last.

And as the sun breached the tree line, the morning mist was burned away from the pond. The Dancers disappeared and Day had begun.