borrowed room's window, lifting the pane of glass to let the crisp night air in to relax me. Gazing out as I lay down, glimpsing moonlight lancing through the trees, my lids finally slid over my eyes. I slept for a few minutes or maybe hours, I'm not really sure, before the whispering words of that other voice weaved a dreamy vision that I could not escape...
*
Brilliant light filtered through swaying canopies laced in softly yellowed leaves. The breeze wound around trees blanched white as marbled stone. Wispy dandelions flittered in a storm of false snowflakes. The wind was warm and fragrant, holding the promised hope of spring. The grass twinkled with dewy green prisms chuting life even as a pair of bared soles whisked across their blades.
The naked feet of the woman landed lightly with each step along the lane formed by double rowed trees. They were delicate brushes that hardly bent the stalks over which they glided. She held her petite frame in crimson cloth draped across an olive toned shoulder, the fabric flowing in ripples with each ghostly step. She was the flaming rise of summer lurking just below the white and golden halls called home to springtime.
The naturally formed avenue ran long but not endless, eventually opening to a path laid in finely cut stone steps held between sentinel fields of brightly colored sunflowers. Four feet tall and half a foot wide, the flowers stood just short of the woman's shoulders. Their golden petals winked open and closed with each passing touch her fingertips bestowed upon them.
She walked for an immeasurable time before reaching the last standing sunflower at the path's end. She plucked it gingerly from its living stalk. Cupping the bloom in a palm, she slowly crushed it in her small hand. Gentle breathe blew through the funnel the fingers had created, expelling glittering dust to the four winds like motes in a swirling sand. The winds sprinkled the floral crush throughout the barren glade the path had led her to, flashing and fading flecks floating and landing as they may.
While each grain planted itself in an oily plop and splash in virgin soil, stone and structure and life sprouted full grown on the formerly stark landscape's stage. A brook holding clear cool water bubbled up from beneath the upraised root belonging to an oak behemoth. Thick grass unfurled from seedlings to carpet the glade, untouched save for the cracked blocks from discarded masonry dotting the natural circle and the trampling dance in which three young women engaged.
Three pair sandaled feet spun in circles, skipping and stomping as they reeled to the music of their own airy laughter, the gentle tune carried on a cool breeze. Alike in many ways, differing in others, it was simple to guess that these women were certainly all sisters. Similar, but not the same. They were alternately dark and fair and earthy.
They spun round and round, gossamer togas fluttering, holding hands with fingers locked together and tightly bound. Their voices rang loud and light, free from care and worry, rising to the heavens. Their silly steps did not diminish even as the woman stood outside the circle watching them in the stillness of her silence.
The woman resumed her silent journey when the simmering sun began to dip its burnished gold crowned head in the west. Skirting the new grown glade with its sisters, she entered a forest formed by densely packed reads towering well above her head. They stood strong and sturdy, hollowed tubes that barely bent as she slid between them, clearing a way with hands and elbows. The downy fibers coating the reeds left no marks on her skin save short lived patches of goose flesh where it tickled. They creaked when she pushed harder at them the deeper she went, their sharp cracking moans eventually completely replacing the sisters' playful laughter she had left
*
Brilliant light filtered through swaying canopies laced in softly yellowed leaves. The breeze wound around trees blanched white as marbled stone. Wispy dandelions flittered in a storm of false snowflakes. The wind was warm and fragrant, holding the promised hope of spring. The grass twinkled with dewy green prisms chuting life even as a pair of bared soles whisked across their blades.
The naked feet of the woman landed lightly with each step along the lane formed by double rowed trees. They were delicate brushes that hardly bent the stalks over which they glided. She held her petite frame in crimson cloth draped across an olive toned shoulder, the fabric flowing in ripples with each ghostly step. She was the flaming rise of summer lurking just below the white and golden halls called home to springtime.
The naturally formed avenue ran long but not endless, eventually opening to a path laid in finely cut stone steps held between sentinel fields of brightly colored sunflowers. Four feet tall and half a foot wide, the flowers stood just short of the woman's shoulders. Their golden petals winked open and closed with each passing touch her fingertips bestowed upon them.
She walked for an immeasurable time before reaching the last standing sunflower at the path's end. She plucked it gingerly from its living stalk. Cupping the bloom in a palm, she slowly crushed it in her small hand. Gentle breathe blew through the funnel the fingers had created, expelling glittering dust to the four winds like motes in a swirling sand. The winds sprinkled the floral crush throughout the barren glade the path had led her to, flashing and fading flecks floating and landing as they may.
While each grain planted itself in an oily plop and splash in virgin soil, stone and structure and life sprouted full grown on the formerly stark landscape's stage. A brook holding clear cool water bubbled up from beneath the upraised root belonging to an oak behemoth. Thick grass unfurled from seedlings to carpet the glade, untouched save for the cracked blocks from discarded masonry dotting the natural circle and the trampling dance in which three young women engaged.
Three pair sandaled feet spun in circles, skipping and stomping as they reeled to the music of their own airy laughter, the gentle tune carried on a cool breeze. Alike in many ways, differing in others, it was simple to guess that these women were certainly all sisters. Similar, but not the same. They were alternately dark and fair and earthy.
They spun round and round, gossamer togas fluttering, holding hands with fingers locked together and tightly bound. Their voices rang loud and light, free from care and worry, rising to the heavens. Their silly steps did not diminish even as the woman stood outside the circle watching them in the stillness of her silence.
The woman resumed her silent journey when the simmering sun began to dip its burnished gold crowned head in the west. Skirting the new grown glade with its sisters, she entered a forest formed by densely packed reads towering well above her head. They stood strong and sturdy, hollowed tubes that barely bent as she slid between them, clearing a way with hands and elbows. The downy fibers coating the reeds left no marks on her skin save short lived patches of goose flesh where it tickled. They creaked when she pushed harder at them the deeper she went, their sharp cracking moans eventually completely replacing the sisters' playful laughter she had left
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