Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
The Caretaker watched as the driftwood met trident tines; spinning, volatile and mercurial, as it was caught in broader scopes and alleviated from its arc. She gave a little clap, then remembered her actual task, and left the former timber to its inevitable fate in the sand.
She arched her brow at the fluke comment, figuring it hadn’t been at all, but if he wanted another try, she’d be willing – he’d already proven he wasn’t going to be mauled by her infantile throws. Nodding her head, she crouched down to snag at another portion of driftwood she’d gathered earlier, figuring luck or skill would prevail.
Rising back up, she tossed it around in her hand until it felt comfortable, and then gave her warning. “Okay, here it comes!” And then permitted it to be launched once more.
She arched her brow at the fluke comment, figuring it hadn’t been at all, but if he wanted another try, she’d be willing – he’d already proven he wasn’t going to be mauled by her infantile throws. Nodding her head, she crouched down to snag at another portion of driftwood she’d gathered earlier, figuring luck or skill would prevail.
Rising back up, she tossed it around in her hand until it felt comfortable, and then gave her warning. “Okay, here it comes!” And then permitted it to be launched once more.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
