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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Alone and weary ... she dangled toes o'er the mountain ledge - the late-October night was clear and bitter cold, yet as still as death ... rare were such even-tides when not a breath of keen altitude moved among the peaks. Far below, thru brumal wisps the tribal lights shimmered in warmth drums of ceremony echoing like All-Hallows heartbeats ... a lone conch-shell horn moaned woefully, and somewhere a wolf answered. The harvest moon swam thru the bright Milky Way wash like a silver doubloon ... swallowing stars in its wan gullet and transfiguring the sharp-shard ridges to proud porcelain gods arms stretching heavenward. She had made this calm-but-keen sojourn countless times each late fall, in careful anticipation of this very night ... but never before had an evening trembled so tenderly or shone as bright and bloodless. Life had been full ... with loves and adventures and aches but she longed for rest and sleep ... the bare, lonely mountains of ancient autumn and crisp, dead leaves hushed it to her - the prayer of welcome ... the prayer of poignant endings. She smiled at the thought of those she loved, now left behind her heart swelling with a sad, soulful contentment. As her people's farewell chant rose faint sweet with the smoke from campfires, far below she breathed, deep and dear the magnificent night ... And stepped softly ... off the edge. ~ 1st Place ~ in the "Fall Into Fall" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
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