Red Right Ankle – The Decemberists
Aeolus whips the winds to rage, change lashing air. Through their wild wrath, melancholy spurs the wounded mare. Maiden blind, her steed – the same. Peels an apple, places her shoes in a ‘T’. Hoping again her true love to see. Ravenous bonfire, ferrying dead. The old now is ending, though midnight succours. Samain rising from ash, of earth and of star. Restores to us, blazing, the promise of life.
This is the story of your gypsy uncle…
Awesome pic and prose. Trees are so beautiful, regardless of type of location. They purify our air and give us oxygen. They hold the soil in place and even in death provide a nursery for the next generation. Trees provide shelter, home, shade…their leaves mulch the earth below enriching the soil. The sound of the wind rustling the birch leaves by my house is musical and soothing. I am fortunate to live in a region that is supported by many different types…evergreen and deciduous. I look forward to reading through your blog.