( Worlds of Imagination ) Yesterday came and then fled with the light. Over the wet loam I traipsed, as the sun mumbled its last and I imagined myself a giant. My tall shadow curved the trees to gaze upon me, a giant, a small “g” god afoot, a trembling oaf, lacking even a shred of shame or explanation. My gaping footprint surprised even me as I stomped down into the valley making holes, smiling at my tallness and magnificent clout. Two sheep moved nearer and with a great puff I sent them stumbling away clacking their hooves. My mouth was very pleased with itself. The red sky knew of my self-seeking delight and erected a storm to fell a naughty ogre. I fled with the sun like a small “g” god will do when it’s found to be mortal and thus untrue. Tomorrow I’ll stride into the valley to view my art; my grotesque house of worship. © 2011 by mark prime
(The Weaver's Song)