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Its 5am and I can’t find my clogs.
Its cool outside but without the slightest chill; plumb pigeons stir uneasily in their sleep as they are goosed by wild little eddies of warm wind which whip in and out of the elder trees lining the fence.
Behind me to the East, the dark night has split at the horizon like an overripe fig, purple skin tearing apart to reveal a fragment of soft white, red and pink.
Above my head, hanging over the concrete dog-run, is the moon; brim full of reflected light, glistening and so full and heavy to my eyes it bleeds wet, gold, glitter into the surrounding night.
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It is wonderful; I seem to have come outside into the very place where ancient earth magik is brewing. The monstrous moon reaches out and attempts to grab me by the back of my neck. I hold my breath and am aware Grace too has stopped circling to find the best place in the run to relieve herself. Now she stares upwards, alert, her hackles raised. I don’t think either of us would blink i
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‘A quest!’ I think, my eleven-year-old child leaping from my chest with the strength of hundred thousand wishes. ‘I am to be given a quest.’
Suddenly a police siren goes off in the distance and Grace yawns loudly, squats and pees. I flinch, duck away from the lunatic moon’s blinding shining and following the steady dog back inside, into the half lit house
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But I dream.
4 comments:
Aaawww, she wakes you with her bunny? I love her.
But wow, what a gift she can make out of a 5am potty call. I almost envy you the moon; I do envy the dreams. What a lovely post, just wow.
Beautiful..that overripe fig, and fairytale figments. I love Grace more and more every time I read about her!
Thank you Susan. Your 'wow' makes me feel marvellous!
And ta Karen too,
Yep i too like Grace more and more..aprt from today and a small incident with a poodle which had best be forgotten...
T xx
oooh, beautiful atmospheric post. I was right there. marvelous words my dear.
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