Solstice storm

They bring the weather with them –
wild winds that flutter home-made pennants,
set lanterns rocking, shadows leaping
up canvas walls and wooden pallisades –

they sing out loud, gathering in loose groups
and drinking sun-gold cider, moonlight vodka –
tell stories round the dancing flames
of midnight fires: their stories –
tales that shift and change
with every telling, forging their own myths.

They’re gathering here before the solstice,
a ragged caravan of feathers, flapping, black;
of russet coats and cool green gazing;
of blues and yellows, splashing monochrome,
dark masks, striped faces, brown eyes
blinking in the light. A mustering of

muddy feet and velvet coats. Silk scarves
and dirty claws, and silver rings.

They bring the weather with them,
call up the wind, send cloud wolves
rioting across the sky,
wait for the sun to rise.

Day 25 of Jilly’s 28 Days of Unreason project. A whole month of poems inspired by quotations from Jim Harrison’s work. 

“A violent windstorm the night before the solstice”. from Solstice Litany


Uncle Steve’s Photos

There was a film left in the camera, the night Uncle Steve disappeared. We had to send it off to be developed – his dark room was a mystery to us.

When the prints came back, we clustered round the kitchen table as Aunty Barb opened them.

She never said a word. Her hands shook more and more as she went through them, and her face froze. Then, suddenly, she got up and left the room.

She never mentioned the photographs, or Uncle Steve again, and we never asked her what she’d seen.

Ninety three words for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. I could have added the days of the week…image by Ted Strutz, words by me, prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.