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Midas
Walking away took self control. I'd left her alone with him, expecting...nar, nothing. At least my strained self found it considerably easier to return to daily paroling; putting forth a show, as if their love nest reunion had little personal significance. Work had thus far always been my answer to emotional situations. Tirelessly the day creep by with a pace that most snails could outdo. When night finally fell, those remaining burnt rays of smothering amber simmered into coal. I went to my hollow; seeking a much needed recharge for a weary bulk and yearning to find an escape through the dark abyss. Hours later, this mind was still awake and anxious; despite my flesh feeling spent. Tired of forcing myself to stare listlessly into the thicket. I moved from underneath those gangly limbs and into a circular clearing that lay exposed and lacked the presence of view hindering canopy. Crown drifted to the shimmering milky glow overhead. Those stars are to me (and will always be) cold, distant, and uncaring. Patched forelegs buckle, I fall forward into a low bow before tucking my rear quarters until my belly was resting itself against the soil. Wordless, I dip my muzzle to the sweet smelling earth. A sense of passive easement cloaks my soul like a warm tide; the spirit could always feel His essence in our home...though tis ever acute right now. Its firm, real, controlled. Blades of grass tickle against cool skin. Ashy lids fall over the glazed gems they house. @Africa  Some legends are told Some turn to dust or to gold |
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