Hunter

Into the breach I go
and file a suit of sorts
revenge or sweetness my pursuit
to drink my fill.. or just get even
a swathe of men bears down on me
hunters too, this evening
nuts or berries handed out in a shoe
a gambler's dress of hands
sharp tongues and hurtful things are said
a gun or branch come to mind
the olives served lightly oiled
sliding in and out
smiles and tempest revealed
a day in a past and no sun shines yet
clouds gather above
a bloody conquest I court
as my cat strokes me
when do they grow old and leave me alone ?
..when looks deceive me

my hunt ends

 

when the four winds came looking for the egg,it was hidden from them by a mist,tall like a pillar,holding them away ,the wind rushed around the mist and tried to consume it , but its colour was white and it melted into the umber earth and was gone,the egg with it .the winds went their four ways,still looking,but the egg was broken by the winds and the the wind was a gift from elan the fair wind god,when she was very young. the new wind that guarded it put the break together by using golden wire and then colouring the top red and the bottom blue and locked it tight .but before it did, it placed inside a small coach made from a worn black stone with jaded gilt trim that crept between the layers ,it was not shiney ,it was ancient ... few days had seen it .the wind then hurled itself around the coach inside of the egg and sealed it shut.It was to belong to no one.when found it would linger in their gaze for a few seconds then as it was opened the wind would unfurl and flow out of the egg and then it would fade into nothing,the wind then returned and sealed the egg once again.
many centuries had passed ,some had found the egg , and tales of its mystery had been told many times .The witches were blamed as they always are and it was said the wind was a sign of the witch's presence 

 

 

presence.

It was a dark day ,the woods were ringing in silence as she entered the columns of oaks and elms.she had come to bury her child .she had lost it in birth and was in sorrow and alone. Wrapped in a green scarf, she held it in front like a precious stone .
She chose the oldest oak,
'hello' she spoke without looking ,
'look after my child'
dropping down on her knees she chose a spot to scrape away the leaves ,they were warm and umber.she mourned gently under her breath and a tear began its way down her pallid cheek .the oak was green like emeralds are,viridian like the sea and.... yellow like the skin .as she pulled at the rotting matter it felt soft and she buried the child ,tucking in the green scarf .as she did, her hand brushed against the egg.she picked it up and looked at it , then placed it down alongside the morbid hole.
the egg had waited a long time for this day .the wind inside howling and in turmoil around the black stone carriage it threw all its might into the stricken space so small ,but stayed sealed .
the cold body of the child was laid to rest and as she got up she picked up the egg and put it in her pocket,with no thought of it ...the tears now blinding her way as she retraced her path out of the darkness .
the wood was now within night , a dark black blue,taking the colours as it did every day, but with the 4 coloured winds whispering through low to the ground...still looking... as the night closed in ....no child was more loved.