In the glowing light of the setting sun, I pad through the grass
to the altar by the door.
The mouse is still warm. I drop it there and wait,
a supplicant in shadow.
The goddess screams when she steps outside.
This night is blessed.
Fiction, Poetry, Nonfiction, Photography and Photo Art
In the glowing light of the setting sun, I pad through the grass
to the altar by the door.
The mouse is still warm. I drop it there and wait,
a supplicant in shadow.
The goddess screams when she steps outside.
This night is blessed.