Random Transmission from Bells Clearing
April 20th 2008 03:30
Nature has a coating that can’t be seen from afar, like a cats tongue or a leaf, or our skin. This is where the wheels of the Caravan start to yearn for release from the sodden earth. Oiled and resting, it is time to take to the open road. I saw dark clouds in last night’s fire, which always means a call for moving. Some have said it was smoke that I saw, just the burn off from the fire break. My blood is restless; travelling, and I have taken to packing, the fires are expected anyway. My eyes search darkening skies for a skyhook, and the heads of the Gypsy Vanners are low. Our songs and dances have shaved a slice off the moon. Onward, forward, our beginnings safely tucked away in the caravan of memories, onward forward. Clip clop.
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