The warmth of an autumn sun
warms her back as she walks a path
unknown.
Winter wrens sing a happy song
as a chorus of crows make way
through a semi-blue sky.
A breeze lights her face
and yellowing leaves harmonize
as they drift and flow down
to the rivers edge.
The deer stop to stare
and she gazes back into coal black eyes,
eyes that can see right through.
A warmth and comfort and serene peace
come from them and they return to graze.
She walks on to the small brick house
and enters the rugged wooden door.
She stirs the big black pot that bubbles
in the fireplace and spiced steam
tickles and tempts her nostrils.
Sitting in the chair of old thick wood
she writes in her book of shadows
as she feels the heat of hearth and home.

S.B. NOVEMBER 2005

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Oh what is it about the green of shamrocks that sets my heart to spinning? ~ I'll se ye in Ireland !

Nice piece of writing SueBee.
I do so love the way you dream.
Love...

And he looked up at her
from the floor and asked:
Are ya done
with ya writin' yet, Lass?
And if so...
Come and sit ya down b'side me
b'fore the fire's glow
and look beyond this Druid's shyness -
into his very soul.

Chi2005

This is so felt and it warms my heart even more, thank you.

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Oh what is it about the green of shamrocks that sets my heart to spinning? ~ I'll se ye in Ireland !

The imagry wanders around in my mind, I want to be there!

In actuality, you are there, each time you read it, eh?...thanks again !

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Oh what is it about the green of shamrocks that sets my heart to spinning? ~ I'll se ye in Ireland !