Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena wouldn’t admit Everest’s letter had sent her somewhat reeling – a mind clouded and collected a burden of thoughts. Which was why she’d patrolled the wondrous Celestine, and after ensuring routine checks were in order, resided within the outer gardens. Here, no one could see the slight tremble in her hands, and they could stay busy, while she gathered and plucked at weeds, or set about planting.
Setting aside herbs that would need to be dried, she painstakingly crawled amidst the roots and eaves and bowed her head, gloves encircling over fingers, where even she couldn’t detect the nervous, anxious twitches, deftly scouring over a few fronds here and there. And all the while, she maintained a certain calming prowess that her mind couldn’t quite savor or center around – the myriad of inquiries bursting through the usual compliant and benevolent prowess.
What happened to Sohalia? Where had she gone? Prior conversations with Anju held more meaning than ever, and the Caretaker wished she’d taken more opportunities to sit with the young woman, dig a little deeper than the surface of their emotions. The Luminary mattered, and she should’ve been told that again and again.
Which also led to the burden of other political machinations – because who was in charge now? And how?
Mittens made some obliging caricature of a sprite as it settled near her shoulder, perhaps its way of providing some modicum of relief, but even then, she pulled at leaves and dug into the earth, hoping to ease some burdens.
Setting aside herbs that would need to be dried, she painstakingly crawled amidst the roots and eaves and bowed her head, gloves encircling over fingers, where even she couldn’t detect the nervous, anxious twitches, deftly scouring over a few fronds here and there. And all the while, she maintained a certain calming prowess that her mind couldn’t quite savor or center around – the myriad of inquiries bursting through the usual compliant and benevolent prowess.
What happened to Sohalia? Where had she gone? Prior conversations with Anju held more meaning than ever, and the Caretaker wished she’d taken more opportunities to sit with the young woman, dig a little deeper than the surface of their emotions. The Luminary mattered, and she should’ve been told that again and again.
Which also led to the burden of other political machinations – because who was in charge now? And how?
Mittens made some obliging caricature of a sprite as it settled near her shoulder, perhaps its way of providing some modicum of relief, but even then, she pulled at leaves and dug into the earth, hoping to ease some burdens.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
