October 21, 2016
A bright sun rose over rolling green hills. The air bit sharp and cool. Ash and cedar trees rustled from the touch of autumn wind, sending orange and yellow leaves sailing across glades of grass and great grey slabs of stone. The wagon rolled on down a muddy trail winding through the country next to a small singing brook. Salmaer tugged on the reigns, humming merrily to no one in particular. Noel slumped in the passenger’s seat, fast asleep.
Croix grumbled against the wheat bundles in the back of the cart.
January 15, 2015
Over hill and under hill, and through the meadows green:Across the sand, across the sea, so many things I’ve seen. I’ve seen the forest’s winter, watched the woods fill up…
February 7, 2012
The woods loom thick with evergreen, an ancient, old, forgotten scene, And through the mist and tangled roots, a tiny witch strolls on between. Though twisted bark casts shadows strong, the…
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