[se] the reign of doves

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

The afternoon’s late summer sprawl meant she had some amount of time in between feedings at the Celestine and closing hours to maneuver her way through the market. Always with a host of things necessary at a Caretaker’s discretion, her long strides flickered and maneuvered through the hustle and bustle of the crowd, Mittens close behind. Leashed, as per the usual lately. Maybe she’d get some more training done with it soon.

The first stop would be to drop off her ruby at the crafters – but she was immediately enamored with things in the window display. A whole world of riches and gleaming, shiny contraptions made her eyes widen: rings, hilts, necklaces, bangles, meant to entice and lure. Mittens squashed its snowball face against the glass, far more overt than she, but now her mind raced over the possibilities.

and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all