photo by Fleur Treurniet via Unsplash
It began with an “I believe” sweatshirt at Christmas then moved on to fairy gardens nestled in emerald Irish moss under “magical trees” and gifts of juicy raspberries on plates of banana leaves.
Next, were the monthly incantations under pale moonlight, the gyrations to the Earth Mother, apologies for the injury to Gaiea, elderberry wine darkening the soil, and imbibing of evening primrose tea.
The reward: on a golden April afternoon scented with jasmine, my sister guided the white horse toward a stable and as they turned toward me, I witnessed the spiraled golden spike protruding from its forehead.
end 3/3/2017 @ 99 words