
No one knows why she dreams of crows when the hills are blanketed with swirling snows or how she sleeps the winter through without need for drink or food.
When she wakes in her feather bed, she has blood on her hands and an ancient melody spinning through her head; flames flicker behind her eyes and she can feel the world’s endless strife.
She washes clean in a mountain stream, her memory now an empty screen; as the April sun dries her pale skin, two crows fall from the cloudless sky and the earth splits open with a shuddering sigh.
~*~
©️2023 Paula Light and Light Motifs II. No unauthorized use permitted.
Drabble (100 words) written for Three Line Tales and Reena’s Xploration Challenge.
I like this. I like the contrast]st between the white snow and black crow.
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Thanks! 😍
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It was the crows… 😱
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oh, this is so good Paula!
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Thank you! ❤️
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Excellent poetry Paula! ❤ ❤
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Thanks! 💗
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Really enjoyed this piece Paula. I found myself drawn to the vivid imagery.
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Thank you 😻
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A surreal poem Paula.
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Thank you 🙂
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Most welcome
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You outdid yourself with this one, Paula.
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Thank you! 😍
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Brilliant Paula! 👏👏😁😁Great rhythm and story! 👌👌
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Thanks!
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