August 28, 2014
Ariela the Cloud-Dancer (A Trashling Tale)
She stands atop
and gazes at the shrouded moon.
Dark bands trap its silver light. Mount Washdry
She undoes her hair and sways skyclad to the song that sounds within her soul. Wrists and ankles move, knees and elbows. She closes her eyes as the dance overtakes her completely.
Limbs whirl. Wordlessly, she keens her song. Slow, fast, loud, soft. Her dance flows gracefully and without effort as the wind.
When she is finished, she opens her eyes. The moon shines pure blessings on all Fill.
Does she know whether or not her dance moves the clouds? Does she care?