Her Dark Furnishings

On a naked hill

Above a shamble of bone built huts,

She plays at chores

in a well-lit palace,

open to the dim world.

she moves about in there

rearranging her dark-polished furnishings

in patterns of arabesque logic.

Everyone below watches, looking up from

mud scrabbled ruts

into the bright vision of order.

“Oooh, coffee table tea party

on the veranda, my dear.

Now that’s the way to live!”

This entry was posted in All part of the process, Dreamtime, House and home, poetry, visions from the dark side and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Her Dark Furnishings

  1. Guess who just brightened up my day? 🙂 Thanks a lot!

  2. randomyriad says:

    Well, your comment has done the same for me.

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