The Fae Child

The child was fae, they said
His look could curdle milk
Sour the cream
Ruin the cheese
Except the Camembert
(Who knows why)
But his skin was soft, like a peach
His hair, spun silk
His eyes, bright as starlight
Changeling, they called him
But I knew better!

#Flashuary #Day8

Twitter challenge to use #Camembert and #Changeling in a piece of writing

Winter Trees

IMG_20181022_233536_646Winter Trees

Winter and the bones of trees,

Giant ghost ships in a sea of leaves.

Stirring a distant memory of sails in the forest,

Pirates in the rigging. Clouds

Concealing things long-forgotten or imagined.

A twilight glimpse of sudden remembering.

Trees talk to each other, they say,

In an underground telegraph.

Do they speak of us, ever, in their long, slow growth?

The bones of trees, fed by mortality,

Outliving all.