Tuesday, December 31, 2013

High is the dryad's home,

A ballet of branches,
An invitation to the exile
To find new footholds;
To climb, veiled in verdant foliage,
Listening to the wind's music.


Ah, how I miss the green.

In my mind's eye today, the old year approached the new one, greeting it as if they had known one another forever. The new year, a tiny baby, squawked at the elder in surprise, but then the old year began to transform; layer upon layer was lifted from it until they gazed at one another, two strangely naked twins, and the new one took up the elder's innermost cloak and donned it, while the sage whistled and walked off the stage.

A joyful New Year to all.


Lori Gomez said...

Happy New Year, Iulia!

A lovely musing this.

iuliaflame said...

Thank you so much, Lori!

Fiodor said...

Splendid thoughts!
A happy New Year, Iulia !

Iulia Flame said...


when trees as gilded as bees

Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...

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