Even when I try to be quiet I ain't. I burn in blue and other colors of the rainbow. My father would say I was so loud and rambunctious as if I was raised by wolves. I am intense and not much is half way. So when I tell you that I counted to seven and I quickly was lifted to heaven just by them and the color orange it is no exaggeration.
When I tell you that I saw autumn, an eternal fire just from the heart of the pumpkin reflecting in their eyes it is not just a magnification of my feelings towards them.
How could he had blame wolves? The son of Spaniards and native Indians and she the granddaughter of gypsies. My crib the Caribbean sea. How could they have doubt the blueprint left by their ancestors. When they practically made me out of sea foam, coconut milk, drumbeats and flamenco.
After feeding me stories of witches foretelling my arrival and the lives I had led. How could I be anything but a wolf.
October is almost gone and soon my images will change with the seasons. In the meantime I wait for Hallows Eve and tonight I look at the sky to a moon that is round and full. I howl hoping my howling will reach north of us further up the coast where the rest of my pack is located. Tonight I wish I had big arms to catch all the rain like confetti.
Polaroid contest winner.
BohemianBabushka please email me adrianairis (at) comcast (dot) net for further details.
Happy Monday peeps and who doesn't love cats?!
So one more...