On this day in May, head adorned in silk and hay. The wind flows north a top the waning flush of the crab apple tree. Gods Good grace we take our charge weave a crown from life all around. A quest of time compacted to enlarge a design of Our Father we spread in to the here after.
Pour and stir till it finds
whisper there till it binds
on the edge she takes flight
from the tower that keeps the weight of life easier to heft.
"It may or may not pop up in May." Thank you English language, I appreciate your depth and at the same time the distance through time you can travel and the stories within stories I'm able to tel with so few words where the instruction to read a sentence is the detail. The quote sentence in my absolute base is, "In the month of May spring arrives and we find out if what we winter planted will sprout, Inshallah." Then you reach down deep to find out whoest be thee May as she springs forth with life that had been bound with drought the blessing of birth a life cycle eternal.
watch out for those pesky spirits that hide in the shade
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
It smelled like a mechanical room, a garage where they do combustion engine work, except it was clean, not a speck of dust on the floor, not a smudge could she see. There was static in the air and a hum that vibrated her outer ear drums.
Paperclips twisted together the communication lines, don't electrocute yourself.
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