i'm a wishful thinker, with the best intentions.
I do not deny that the feel of the cold, crisp wind feels good from the summer's unrelenting heat. But I do not share fond memories of the harsh, cruel winter. As I walk through the growing mounds of ivory, I am careful and purposeful withe every long stride. Red feathers slick with the touch of snow, the still-falling flurries like teardrops against my bright strawberry skin. They melt as soon, trickling like the tears of fallen angels, down my shoulders, my neck. Within the damp knots of my mane, the forgotten summer flowers still sit, dried and fragile. They feel part of me, like the soft rays of light that reflects from the Falls. the sweet smell reminding me of the place that has stolen my heart. Home.
I had seen Gaza, again. We spoke of the child swelling within. I was concerned, in the way all new mothers are. What will it be like, what will happen? Akos had been fine, he still is the little adventuring boy. Texas. He is as good a father as any, I'm sure. It is still fresh and new for me. Shatter's own child, grows with every day that passes and I am reminded again that time, it runs away with us. Spring will be here soon and another child will be by my foot. Another sound of laughter to fill the Falls, another mouth to tell of wanting tales and desires.
Yet, the Falls needed more than children. Thus, I found the trek between the Falls and the Field, quite observational and contemplative. the snow falling across my vision, decorating the trees with icicles and a foam of white where red and green leaves once sat. It pulled me into a fairytale and there, walking through the field, I remained. until I saw a form, at first I thought it was a deeper mound of snow, but then I noticed her flanks roared with life. I increase my pace, concern snapping my heels and forcing my heavy frame like a tank through the snow. I'm by her side soon enough, lowering my muzzle, breathing hot air against her cold face.
'Here's not the safest place to rest, dear petal.' I reach out to touch her, but stop myself. Remembering what had happened when the ice had felt like iron in my lungs that time. The cold leaden weights against my joints, weighing me down, pulling me under into the throes of sleep. Oh how I wanted to sleep. I shook my head, dropping to my knees and sidling up to the pale mare. My body is vast a vessel, large and warm with the thick strawberry fur. 'You mustn't close your eyes. Tell me, your name. What is your name, dear petal?' the ice berates me against the wind and though my windswept tresses cling wet to my face, my neck I whisper against them, close to the mare. 'Anything. say anything. Spring will soon be here, the wildflowers, the birds. Think of their song in summer, the glorious sunlight filtering through the trees.' think of anything but the cold that weighs like lead in your bones, think of anything else...
ambassador of the falls