36 Suddenly, fiercely, I see. I treble in time. Tree, Tower, starcraft, but here, not there. I look far & see how the future is collapsing back. Oh. Again, here, my friends sniff me twice & wait. That cave. I was in there. The crimson thread in my hand. I think I know. ****** The Encounter There are many magicks in the world, & I watch you walk among several. Your friends gird you powerfully with their love, their deep roots in the earth. The cave you enter to know better is more of a danger, but I cannot get near. I follow as wind, as glare on water, as winter leaves. Waiting for a moment to give you word. I spy your blue bag & make a move. Affix myself as hummingbird & wait. Listen to your chatter with your friends. They want you to leave with them. I can’t let you go. I begin to hum close to your ear, risk this, you look around, but nothing. Your friends sniff twice, & I am exposed. We sit. The tiny one comes up to me, gnattering in an unknown tongue, entering my mind, pushing things around, I cry out finally & you say a word to retrieve her to your hand. The long-eared one stares intently at me & I strangely calm, lean back, nearly dream. She does not press or pry but wearies me & I cannot respond, whimper, & again your word. The green-shelled one does not but sit in your lap, guarding against me. “I have no such friends as these,” I finally say. “I did not come to harm you. Please believe me.”
The Cenacle | 83 | December 2012