this new november night
To begin at the beginning:
I live on a wild, blustery bit of
land and have learned to love the
grey rain and wind that howls like
a famished wolf. On dreich days I
curl up with classic literature or
folktales, or draw & write of dripping
hair and sloe black eyes.
My hair is curly due to an over-active
imagination. I take my tea with milk.
I feel at home in forests suffused with
with the scent of pine cones and silvery
mist. Sea and snow forever entices & quiets
me. Still I feel as a young fox, one day I
hope to eventually cease my shaking heart
and quivering limbs. graphics: peculiarpear
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