fallslikesnow

Into the meeting hall came Theodore, the headman. He was surprisingly small and slender. His eyes, perpetually wide and a deep clear blue, were notoriously poor at seeing, a fact that many miscreant children had taken advantage of. Apart from the eyes he was dark with black hair and skin that looked tanned all the time. He walked off center, a syncopated lurch that was the result of something breaking in his brain some years before. Even his many enemies refrained from mentioning his ailment, partly through compassion, but mainly to avoid the explosive rage he exhibited whenever it was brought up. No matter the clothes he wore he always had his grandfathers belt around his waist. A thick strip of leather held in place by leather thongs through holes. Hanging from it, all the way around, were a score or more glossy black feathers and it was this that caused awe in those open to the emotion. Having seen a bird was singular enough. To kill and eat one, to absorb its power, was both wonder...

The children of the rich are becoming a separate species That they are taller and better looking can be put down to Good nutrition and confidence respectively But they have long thin limbs Delicate long fingers Large but flat chests They run for miles and still have Energy for enthusiastic, cool skinned, inventive sex They are being bred for some high, thin aired Shangri-La As the world below falls apart they will breathe Clean air, they will run up and down their mountain valley Use their long thin fingers to operate computers Doing rocket science They will fight wars against us low-landers As we rise from the sludge of all that is left They will leave for Mars and we will stay Failing to deal with a biosphere spasming And collapsing back to slime mould The children of the rich are becoming a separate species

The lapwing's poetic meaning is 'Disguise the Secret' and it is her extraordinary discretion which gives her the claim for sanctity . Robert Graves, The White Goddess Ana carried the basket, dry reeds woven together into lines and loops, filled with mushrooms. A basket, she sometimes thought when in one of her down moods, that was sturdy enough to carry her head should one of her frequent migraines cause it to fall off. As always she stopped at the Tall Stone, the prone Lesser Stones scattered around it, paying obeisance. and she put down the basket and walked up to the tall, misshapen spear of rock, bowing a little, respectful of the power in this place. At the height of her head there were carvings, almost invisible after centuries of erosion, covered with lichen. Above there were three spirals in a rough triangle. They were perfect, as though measured out with ruler and string. Their edges were sharp and they were deeply incised, as if with an inconceivably h...