Source: Rob Swanson Photography
(Full Version)
She clambers atop the cardinal’s shoulders
Gently hooks soft knees over scarlet wings
Grasps the longest feathers of his crest
Solstice Story
Midsummer
Nora’s Mistake
Nora crouched at the edge of Fischer’s Gorge and pulled a braid of human hair from inside her jacket. Each strand in this braid had been woven together from the remainders of uncounted childhood games, battles fought and forgiven, and secrets shared among four friends, over nearly two decades. She pressed it to her face and breathed in their memories, then began the unraveling. Continue reading
To Unravel, or Repair?
The spell had existed, long before she’d begun chronicling by gathering their hair. Candle-lit, she bent over the long braid, a weave of auburn, nut-brown, curly black, and her own pale blonde. Continue reading
A Midsummer’s Dear John
Dearest Oberon,
Although I swore to renew our vows this Midsummer’s Night, I cannot in good conscience re-marry you. Your cruel joke on Nick Bottom backfired, and I’m still pissed that you snatched my changeling to make him one of your warriors. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 