Wind howls down the street, down the sidewalk and hill, so difficult to tackle on mornings like today. Icy shards lift, whip around and slap Laurel’s cheeks as she trudges against the wind. She swears, wishing she’d strapped ice grippers onto her hiking boots. The sun limns the hilltop. Continue reading
freedom
Homeward Hike
Above the timberline, stunted trees of high altitude are little more than memory. As far as the eye can see, reindeer moss is sparked with tiny white flowers and golden clusters of cloudberry. Continue reading
Red Sky at Morning
She stood by last night’s bonfire. Flames leapt high, our drunken faces and dancing limbs in hideous relief, like Dante’s inferno on the shore of this northern bay. Continue reading
Scars of Ambition
We come down the winding stone stairs in two groups of three, hands cupped to steady the splash and flicker of fragrant oil lamps. The deeper we go, the louder the rush and roll of the underground river flowing through the apothecary. Here is where the souls of the Mothers slow for the earthly; here is where appeals to heal scars from ill deeds are most likely granted.
Bouquet of Shadows
I hold this in my cupped hands,
Stare into its depths.
Red and orange flicker, leap and stab.
Smoky, shifting colors blacken and curl
Its abundant petals. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 