Evergreen- Welcome to Evergreen

    Sunlight comes in white light beams that flow on through the window panes. Behind the glass the flowers bloom. Fair young maidens for white and pink, fan out their petal dresses in the morning light. Their faces are warm, their bodies green, and their feet bathed in sweet, cool moisture. Such delicate little babes go dancing here to the unheard music of fiddles and flutes. Rejoice in the morning, rejoice in the day, for all is well. Mother’s on her way to feed her darlings, to smile and sing. She who sends the wind and rain to bless her sweet young darlings. What a lovely day it is today.
Going along the row of plants laid on display in Evergreen’s windows, Vivika took great care in watering her green angels as a smiling Hummingbird followed behind. One would water and feed, the other would sing and amuse. Plants, after all, are living things. Entertainment is a big deal to them too. And fair Hummingbird knew very well how to amuse her fellow kind. It is important that one speaks the proper language if one is to amuse those of the green world, especially if one seeks to earn their trust.
Now, a nose shouldn’t be turned up at Vivika’s own expertise. She kept her green and flowering darlings going strong long before her faerie friend arrived to help. Even so, the change in Evergreen did not go unnoticed. Every plant in the shop and greenhouse seemed to dance and sing, even to the eyes of the Normals. For the roomies, the revelries in Evergreen were as real as a party down at the pub was for the Normals. And the magic produced by those dancing faerie feet blessed the shop owner further in her work. The magic of a happy fae is quite the remedy indeed.

“Good morning, ladies.” Conner announced his presence as he descended the stairs. Hummingbird greeted her friend with a happy twitter. Vivika responded with a grunt as she returned to her workbench beside the register.

“I’m glad at least Hummingbird is happy to see me.” he sounded hurt, but Vivika knew him well enough to hear that underlying, playful tone. And just as she expected, his arms were around her shortly.

“Good morning, Vivika.” his voice tickled her ear, and the woman couldn’t stop a smile.

“Good morning, Conner.” she greeted in return.

“Are you feeling any better this morning?” Conner kept his voice down so as to not alarm the mute pixie woman.

“I’m feeling fine.” Much better than she was yesterday, that was for certain. “Is Toby upstairs?”

“Aye, he’s looking for something you can make for dinner. The kid is determined for a spirit.”

“He’s just eager to be helpful.” Absent-mindedly, Vivika pressed her fingers between those of her deity. “He just wants to make sure his friends are happy.”

“Sounds a little familiar, don’t you think?” Conner teased.

“Not so much anymore.” Vivika brushed it off, still smiling. For just a moment, Vivika allowed her spirits to rise, basking blissfully in the silent company of the pixie and demigod.

Then the shop door opened, and Vivika’s walls went straight up again, much to Conner’s dismay.

“Welcome to Evergreen.” Both Conner and Hummingbird shook their heads. The woman behind the counter was a stranger to them with her smiling face and happy voice.
A woman no older  than twenty five stood in the doorway, casting rather nervous eyes over the shop, taking in the green, the shelves of oils, dried herbs and salves, and the woman who stood alone among them all. Her hands were trembling as they clutched her coat around her, even though the morning was fairly warm. And not a one of the roomies missed the air of helplessness she brought in with her, like a looming cloud of an angry storm.

“Joey sent me.” she said after a moment of looking about. Vivika leaned forward. If the barman sent her a client, it must be very serious.
“You’re Vivika Owens?” the stranger didn’t seem to believe that this plain and fairly young woman before her could possibly be a highly recommended medicine woman.

“You will call me ‘Missy’.” Vivika stood, her inner nature peeking through just a smidgen. “And yes, I am.”

“Help me.” Though she couldn’t see the other, Vivika and Conner exchanged glances. “I’ll pay whatever you want.” From the storefront display, Hummingbird even gave a serious-sounding chirp as if to further clarify the severity of the situation this unfortunate woman found herself in.

“Every customer is entitled to one free session.” Vivika explained, cutting out her normal formalities. “If you are satisfied, you will come back. That is how this works.” The young woman watched the shop owner step towards the back, not moving until the other motioned for her to follow. Without looking back at her companions, Vivika drew the curtains and shut the door, confining her client in private discussion.

“What a piece of work.” the demigod remarked once the women were behind the closed door. He hesitated before speaking again. “Vivika is going to need a bit more help to fix up that one. There is something else going on here that even her remedies won’t fix.”
Hearing this, Hummingbird narrowed her spring green eyes and gave a rather disapproving chirp. She knew what Conner was up to. The question was if it was really that good of an idea.

The pixie began to twitter quietly, gesturing with her hands to get her point across. Thankfully the demigod understood her fully.

“She won’t mind it.” Conner reassured her. “She knows I’m coming home, so what’s the big deal?” Hummingbird crossed her arms. “I’m doing this to help her, and she knows it. So I’m going, HB.” Turning to her, Conner flashed the fae a smirk. “Time to have some fun.” His form began to shift, and Hummingbird just looked on, dreading what was to come.


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Evergreen- Happy Anniversary

    I can’t believe I listened to him. Why did I do it? I should have told him to piss off. I should have done it. But I know why I didn’t. I didn’t want him to leave tonight. Not tonight. So in order to get something from him, I need to give a little in return. Reciprocity and all that. It’s good for a relationship,  even with a god I guess. And that means for one night, I just need to suck it up and put on a smiling face. I used to be good at it. Should be like riding a bicycle. It’s nothing after all. Just another weekend day, another song on the speakers, and another gathering of drunken idiots.

    I really don’t like people.
    Everyone keeps telling me that I can’t hate people. I’m human and that means I have to learn to deal with people. And I say I don’t have to do a damn thing if I don’t want to. People haven’t given me much reason to like them, so why should I bother expending energy on people who don’t matter. Clients are one thing, but this mess laid before me as I step into old Joey’s pub… they make me sick to my stomach. Sex-crazed, boozed up apes, the lot of them.

    “Hey Missy.” The barman already has my drink waiting. I drop a few ones on the bar, he carries on about his business and I take my usual seat. You know that one person who sits alone at the bar looking miserable and moody? Yea, that’s me. And that’s exactly how I like it. I don’t dance. I don’t make eye contact or conversation. I am there for a drink, and once I am done with that, I walk out the door without anyone even noticing. Unless certain issues arise.

    “Hey, what’s up baby?” Like this joker. “What are you doing here by yourself?”

    “Leave her alone.” I will admit, the regular barman’s pretty cool. It’s nice knowing he keeps an eye out for me. But the line has been crossed. Once some bimbo starts hitting on me, that’s the end of the line. Oh well. At least he had good timing. I’ve just finished my drink so I won’t feel bad about leaving anything behind. It’s a waste of money and perfectly good drink. But if men are approaching me, that’s a red flag that says I’ve been out too long. The social life has been had. I have been seen by the public eye, so my housemate can’t complain. Time to get out of here.

    “Good night, Missy.” The barman says as I leave, knowing better than to expect an answer.

    It’s gorgeous out tonight. The lamps haven’t turned on just yet, so I can see a few stars as I look up. It isn’t often I see them living in the city. I remember looking up at the sky and seeing it littered with twinkling gems. I remember I hated it back then. That’s why I came here. The stars are a small price to pay for my freedom.
    I’m already back at Evergreen. The window above the shop is dark. Conner must be in bed already. Oh well. That just means I can take my time before turning in myself. As I open the front door, the smell of green and growing things washes over  me. No matter how many times I open that door, I still can’t get over how wonderful that smell is.
    Up, up, up the stairs I go. I wonder who else is up. Hopefully I don’t scare the brownie off. In goes the key to unlock the apartment door, click goes the light switch as I flick on the main light. What is in the kitchen to greet me? Conner is there, and so is a tall blonde woman who is smiling like the sun. Then a young man who looks no more than twenty steps forward.

    “Happy Anniversary, Missy.”
*    *    *

“What is all this?” Strung across her living room was a banner reading ‘Happy 1st Anniversary, Roomies’, there were streamers scattered here and there, a few colorful balloons as well, and when Vivika looked down at her clothes, she was covered in glitter.

“One year.” Conner said from the kitchen, tossing a drink at his companion. “We’ve all been together for one year, today.”

“And you know me. Of course I had to throw a party for it.” The young man added as the blonde woman began to chirp excitedly.

“You did all this, Tobi?” Vivika was relived to know her companion wasn’t the one behind this sentimentality.

“Well, the idea was mine, but Conner was the one who actually did everything.” he corrected. “There are some drawbacks to being dead, you know.” Behind him, the blonde was twittering indignantly until Conner gave her a nod.

“Don’t forget Hummingbird.” he said. “She helped out a lot too. Kept us all in line and made sure we had plenty of glitter on hand.” As if to illustrate his point, the blonde threw her hands up in the air, showering the apartment with a wave of sparkling colors. Then giving a rather mousy squeak of delight, she shifted into a tiny green light that went zipping away through the apartment before a cross-looking Vivika could voice her disapproval.

“Damn pixie.” she grumbled, brushing glitter from her clothes.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” an arm went around her and a kiss was placed on her forehead to calm her irritated nerves. Damn Conner too. He always knew just how to pacify that woman.
“Let it go, whatever it is.” He whispered so that only she could hear. It was a moment before the female leaned into Conner’s chest, the signal that she was at ease.

“Happy anniversary.” She breathed, the shadow of a smile on her face.

Families are a funny thing. They can be any shape, any size, any color or creed and still they are fundamentally the same. Some can be bad. Others can be good. Vivika, for one, didn’t like family. That word didn’t hold any pleasant meaning for her at all. Yet as she looked on at the group of being dancing and laughing in her home, that word kept surfacing in her mind. Family… family offers support. Family offers comfort, tolerance and unconditional love. Maybe that’s what they were, this band of misfits. A human, a demi-god, a ghost, a faerie all have come together to share in each other’s joys, their happiness and losses. Maybe, eventually, she could call these roommates all family.

The revelries lasted well into the morning until the familiar flutter at the cat door signaled the arrival of the brownie, returning to attend to his nightly duties. Tobi and Hummingbird ventured downstairs to tend the plants in the shop, Marcus claimed his place at the door in a vain attempt to catch the unseen nightly guest, and behind a closed bedroom door, Vivika and Conner readied themselves for bed.
“Do you feel better?” Conner asked the woman as he got into bed, already stripped down to his skivvies.

“What do you mean?” Feigning ignorance was a trick that always seemed to work for Vivika. Too bad she seemed to keep forgetting it never worked on her deity. Conner waited until the light had been turned out and his companion had gotten into bed beside him before he pressed the matter.

“You know perfectly well what I mean.” He continued when this statement was met with silence. “Something is bothering you. I can feel it. I just wish you would tell me what is vexing you so badly.”
Again there was silence in the dark. Neither of them spoke until Vivika’s fingers lightly touched the man’s chest.

“Come here.” he sighed, opening his arms for the body that was suddenly curled up against him. It was unbelievable just how warm he was. Those arms, his scent, the feeling of his hand going up and down her back, the tickle of his fingers going through her hair was nothing but comforting. He was safe, and she knew it.

“Thank you.” she muttered into his chest.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Again there was a long, debating pause.

That was the end of that for tonight.

“Good night.” he kissed her forehead and held her tighter, just like he knew she wanted. The woman in his arms was asleep in an instant, the darkness hiding the tear that had fallen from her eyes.

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Evergreen- Getting Out

Tick tock. Tick tock. On and on that droll old clock clicked away the twilight hour. The setting sun filled the apartment with orange light and stretching shadows. In the kitchen the remnants of a meal sat beside the empty sink. The faucet was dripping away in a steady rhythm. Dripdripdrip… On a shelf several house plants were blooming happily in their cozy pots under the bright plant lights as a homely spider readied herself to settle down for a quiet night. Marcus the Cat lay sleeping on his favorite pillow, dreaming of his late-night hunt. Not a sound disturbed his happy dreams. Not the hum of the lights, nor the drip of the faucet. Not even the constant, hypnotic ticking of that old grandfather clock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

And all the while she sat there in her favorite chair across from an empty sofa. She stared dead into space as she held an open bottle of beer in her hand. Her features were feminine and soft, though her eyes were cold as January. There were enough walls behind those eyes to shame any fortress. Bronze shading tinted her skin, her clothes were dirt stained and plain, and if one ever dared to get close enough she would have smelt of earth and green. This was the master of the household. In her castle, she reigned as king, and when her voice ruptured the silence, everything seemed to stand in attention.

“What are you staring at?” she asked the silence of her home, sounding rather annoyed. Her query received no answer. After a moment, she spoke again.

“You’ve been staring at me for the last hour.”

“I thought we were having a staring contest.” a male voice replied, the sound of a smirk in his tone. “I was winning.”

“Do you want something?” Clearly the woman wasn’t in much of a good-humored mood.

“A beer would be nice.”
The woman scowled for a moment before setting her beer on the coffee table and sliding it towards the adjacent seating. A hand reached out to pick it up.

“It’s warm.” he said, tipping the bottle’s contents into his mouth anyway.

“If you’re going to complain, why don’t you do something about it then, Conner?”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he softly corrected, “I was making a statement. The beer is warm and isn’t to my taste.”

“Maybe you should get your own.”

“Maybe you should get up and get out of the house.”
With a scoff the woman rolled her eyes, to which Conner responded with a waggle of his finger.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Vivika.” He ignored the glare he received for the use of that name. “ We both know that this isn’t healthy for you. You can’t just waste away your days sitting at home drinking beer and playing with the cat.”

“And why not?” Why should she have to do something she didn’t want to do? She had no reason to leave. What really bothered her was the fact that it wasn’t like her companion to suggest such things when he knew full well how much she abhorred them. The man heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his dark hair from his eyes. He looked completely human, this man no one could see. Except for his eyes. In the light of the setting sun, those orbs glowed like liquid gold laced with red and violet.

“Quit being a stubborn, anti-social ass and just get out already.”

“Why should I?”
Vivika knew she wouldn’t like his answer when his lips curled up.

“If you don’t leave, I will.” the woman felt her stomach drop the instant those words left his smirking mouth. “And we both know how much you don’t like that.”

“Fine.” she shot back, pushing herself out of her chair. “Just so you’ll get off my back about it.” She left the room, leaving the man behind to stare into space, a long fingernail clinking on the glass bottle he held. In just a short while, Vivika swept back into the living room with her coat on her arm and left the apartment without so much as a glance to the golden eyed man.
She was quite as she descended from the landing into her shop.

“Damn that man.” she grumbled as the lock to the front door of Evergreen clicked into place. Against her better judgment she cast her eyes up at her living room window. It was dark and empty, but she knew he was watching. With a final narrowed glance the woman turned to head down the street where the local pub was waiting.

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This Man I

There were many men who died there, on the shadowed hills of the bay. Many a proud, brave warrior there met the grave. So vast in number the swords pierced the sky, ringing of glittering silver bells and  talons of tempered steel. In waves they crashed into one another, one brother fighting his other and all in the sight of gods for such a trifle thing. On and on the blood was spilt. On and on they came for titles, for land, for glory and fame. Such trivial little human things. Yet one man stood out among the rest. One soul in a million shone like a beacon aglow in the sea of unending hate so brilliantly the gods could see it plain as the midday sun.

His sword shone like a sliver of fire, glinting in the setting sun. Across the din his cries of battle rose up to fill the sky and touch the ears of his beloved gods. Sweat dripped from his brow. The sweat of an honest, working man. The sweat of toil and labor all for the gift of shelter and food which he humbly accepted as reward. His eyes, grey as the stormy seas, held red in them on that day. Like the fire blood of the earth peeking up from beneath her stone flesh they burned as he held out hope for survival when all his allies were falling.
And as they watched, those gods of old, they noticed something. Something just beneath the skin. Something pure as an infant that set him apart from his others: This Man held on for true love.

The gods felt great sadness when the Fates cut his thread, and all of the world seemed to share it. Even his lover, safe at home miles away, could feel the earth tremble with a silent cry when her mate had passed on. Suddenly the world seemed darker. The clouds, the seas, the earth herself in all her flesh and bone. Everything and all things had shifted. History would be forever changed with the death of this one man. This single brave, loving Man.

This Man was born onto the earth, and worked his young years tending to it. Poor he was, yet strong in spirit. A handsome man, to be sure, but with a heart more brilliant than any gem. That heart is what earned him the attention of the king. This Man was brought into the rank of soldiers, trained to fight as a king’s man should the land come to war. With his superiors watching his every step, This Man worked his way up the ranks. Every day he showed more skill and strength, just like his father before him had done, and his father before him. “Warrior was always in his blood, wasted on the land and the old gods” some of his fellows would say, but their words never swayed him. He always knew where he would be during times of peace when soldiers were allowed to go home. This Man would be in the fields, playing his music for the old gods and tending the land they had given him.

And then one day, This Man found The Woman.

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One Day I’ll Fly Away

“One day I’ll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?”

-Nicole Kidman, Moulin Rouge


I journeyed into town today on my quiet day off. Nothing much to do. Home cleaned, laundry completed, all my best books read. And today is the day I get paid for my services to the food industry. My morning ritual commenced as it usually does. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich to start the day, a quick warm shower, quick change of clothes and off I went out into the world. I received my check, went over finances and ended my excursion with a stop to the library to pick up a few new bits of reading material.


Now, when I drive, I do not take the major highways and interstate. Generally I take the back roads to travel between the city and my home out in the country. Since my primary destination had been my place of employment, I took the road that passes the airport and traveled down Edgewood Rd all the way into the city and for the trip home, I followed the same route.

As I passed the airport, I was struck with a very odd notion. My mind went to my savings and how much I have managed to keep a hold on for the past month and I wondered where I could go for that much money. In a split instant, I wanted to drive up to the airport, pull what I could from my savings and fly off to where ever it was I could go with that much money. I probably wouldn’t be able to go very far, but it would be something new, something fun. Something strange. A new patch of sunlight on a new surface of the earth.

Of course the thought was pushed from my mind almost as quickly as it had come and I drove past the airport without a hitch. I can’t leave now. I have too many things to do. So many responsibilities.  Debts to pay, a foundation to build (not that I’ve ever had much of a foundation), and the wise men and women of my life have made it clear that such fanciful ideas are a quick route to failure. Not many things scare me more than failure. But was it really such a wrong idea?


Not long ago, my father told me a story of his travel to Alaska. One day someone invited him, and he said yes. They saved up a little, got in a car, and made the journey. They brought shelter, probably a few clothes, maybe camping equipment, but nothing more than they could fit in a car. There wasn’t much for them out there, if anything at all. But the thought of that didn’t seem to bother them, because off they went. And from one job to the next, he made his way out there for a year before returning to familiar territory.
I also heard tell from one of the women I work with of an old acquaintance of mine who left all he had to go on a soul search in Oregon. He lives on his own and works for an old couple. He owns nothing but a cheap phone and a car, and he is incredibly happy.


Sometimes I think I live in the wrong age. I live in an age where it is too hard to survive with nothing and just pick up a living where you can. The jobs are too scare, the people not as kind to strangers, and the world as a whole far less forgiving to those who have nothing. And always I must have something. I must have extra, just in case I fail. Always I’m so afraid to fail. When I think about it, I feel sad. I feel envious, even if just a little bit. I feel I can only dream of a life like what they had. A life with that kind of freedom. How wonderful life must be when you aren’t afraid of falling.


I know I have a very long way to go. There is much i need to learn, much I need to see and feel, but there are other, more important things that I must do first. As my dear aunt said, it is going to be difficult to do what I want if I don’t want to live in a box. But still, I find it pleasant to dream of such a lovely life. A life where all these things, all this stuff, all these memories don’t matter so much anymore. A life where I can stop clinging to the nearest wise woman or wise man and live life as a young person. As a excited, adventurous, happy young woman looking to find something new and ready to let everything go for the sake of being free.


As a parting musing, I have begun to ask the following questions: Why is it things are so different? Why is it that people frown upon nomads? Is it really so bad to live a life without structure?

Will I ever be brave enough to one day follow my whims and let them take me where they may?


For now, I remain quietly content and optimistic for the spring. Come what may, I am eager to begin the journey I am planning for. And one day… one day I’ll fly away.

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What If…?

Sometimes I act in a certain way that makes people uncomfortable around me. Sometimes the things I say seem too “outlandish” that everyone becomes afraid. Perhaps it is the part of me that is still stuck at seven, pointing at the shadows on the walls.

I remember being a child, nearly eight. The house was dark and quiet, and I seemed to be the only one awake. I don’t remember why I was awake. But sometimes, when I was alone and awake at night, I would hear a noise. From in the hallway. Who’s footsteps were that? Was that a clicking sound from just within the shadows? What if someone has come sneaking in to kill me? What if something dangerous is hiding in the dark? What if it comes for us? What if it kills us and no one hears me scream because they are all asleep? No one ever listened to me or believed me when I was scared. No one ever listened at all. They wouldn’t care if a monster pulled me off into the night. And I would lay in my bed, staying as still as a corpse, staring at a shape I saw moving, or listening for a sound in the dark. It seemed like hours I would lay there, barely breathing, never daring to move a muscle as I stared at the shadowed beast hovering in the corner, or the man who walked through the halls. Perhaps I drove myself mad, all on my own in the dark.


But perhaps it is not about a child fearing the dark. What if it was a higher perception? A higher sensing of what exists in the world beyond our human abilities and our perceived range of sight, sound, taste, smell and feeling. A child who sees things other people cannot see, she can feel and hear things other cannot here, therefore it does not exists. What if the child threw a fortress around her perception, a block to keep her within one world. And what if sometime, once in a great while, she can feel again. She can sense again, she knows what is hiding in the dark. Hush not a sound upon the stair, lest the beasties know you’re there.

See what I mean? Outlandish. Such odd, impossible thoughts. Makes me feel like good old Alice. Mad, bonkers, off my head. But I feel it. And after a while, I just got tired of doubting my own feelings. So now, I feel, I experience, I believe. I am inventive, with a mind that enjoys to flutter about from  one impossible idea to another.


What if impossible things did exist?

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The Diary of Ashlie McKinely, Part 1

Golden lamps along the walls play pretty with that head of autumn hair. Like the woods in late October within the supper sunset, that head of hair burns like a ruby cascade. As I sit at my desk with quill in hand, she is busy with herself. Exploring the manor, rushing about the drawing room, discovering new nooks and crannies in which to hide away, and tormenting her poor, retired grandfather. It is silly, nigh laughable how every day he comes to me with a new complaint about little Claire. From her muddy feet after a rain day of play in the west gardens to her tea parties where she uses my late great grandmother’s best china dishes, it is just one grievance after another. Though I know the old man means well. And I know he loves that little girl. She reminds him so of his own dearly departed wife, lost to us this spring. Heart failure, they always said, but I have always had it in my mind that something never sat right. But I digress
The clock in the hall has just given the two o’clock chime. It is hard to believe that the household is still so lively at such a late hour. I must admit that sleep has been a reluctant bed-fellow over the past few weeks, but I will not coax myself beneath the sheets before I finish my task. I have waited all day for a free moment just to confide in this, my secret book. Confide that I feel like such a fool in love.
How many weeks go by until I hear from him again, my beloved soldier boy. There is no telling how long this will go on for. A few more weeks? A few more months? A few more years? But I had kept up hope that he would answer my letters. Perhaps it is all in vain. I must admit, I am not as much the lady as I should be. It could be he finds my contact to be to forward. After all, we are naught but neighbors, he and I.

Yet was it not he who would come calling upon my company in the wee hours of a sleepless night? Was it not he who doted upon my daughter, treated her as his own? Was it not he who stole me away to the labyrinth for a sensual little tryst? What should I think then when the signs are being mixed. I do not feel that he is dead. No, he is alive and well if the Students are correct. There is not much else I can do then. For now, I will have to wait and watch.

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Our Memory

Cozy little flat on a dreary little day half past a quarter to three. Here I am and here I stand for all my friends to see. They called for passion, for peace and hope and though it’s all the same not a one of them wished to stand their ground and die for what they gain. We were sitting there at the table round a bright and shining feast one that had been nurtured with tender care. Man and plants and beast all came from them, these fellows fair for whom my heart did burn. Yet we learned that night that all their love was not given in return.


Tall I was, my best dress on with the coachman on my arm. Brother was I, as was he. I thought they meant no harm. Crack came the iron thunder, down went the ship at sea. Stay by me, love as we fly away to heaven. You and me.


Barnabus C. Rachette

Jack Tucker

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A Silent Spell

I am a tree

One that moves

Sun is my feast, the Earth is my magic

Forever flowing through me

Birds soar above my head, creatures flit about me

My heart is a home, my mind bears fruit

Shimmering crystal berries of thought and invention

The Lady sings through me

As She dances on the Wind and Rain

When cut, I bleed

Though my body is weathered and worn

I am newborn in the Springtime breath

Of a cycle’s eager dawn

I am one of many, yet I stand alone

Reaching out for my own ray of Sun

I am silent

I am content

I am a tree

One that moves

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