My offering for Master Class Monday, from Our Write Side
Donna couldn’t sleep. Too much on her mind. Too many decisions left undecided.
After lying awake staring into darkness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her toes rooted about the carpet seeking her fluffy gray slippers.
Feet embraced, she shrugged into her robe and shuffled to the kitchen. As she filled a glass of water from the tap, her gaze was drawn out the window.
The meadow behind the house was aglow with silvered moonlight. Enchanted, she let herself out the back door into the early fall night. The air was crisp, but not uncomfortably so. A light breeze carrying bits of leaf and pollen became a magical shower of light as the full moon reflected from countless surfaces.
She sipped her water, eyes captured by the meadow. There, a seductive sway of moonlit foxtails allowed to grow wild through the last lazy days of summer. Bowing into shadow with each gentle breeze, springing back to bathe in the sterling light.
Donna left the glass on the deck rail and tiptoed down the steps. She crossed the manicured back lawn and into the meadow.
The breeze wafted, grass swayed, silver and ebony. A dance of light and shadow. She unconsciously began to move with them in silent rhythm. Arms outstretched, she wove through the blades. Light and shadow. Her body responding, bowing to the shadow, lifting to the light.
Her eyes closed as she mimed the shush of leaves and whisper of foxtails.
She didn’t see them gather, wings spread to the caress of breeze. Iridescent spans reflecting the luster of the full moon.
They watched, timid of her presence. Then curious. When they discerned no threat, they joined.
Weaving and bowing. Swaying and bending. Silver to ebony, moon light to moon shadow.
As the dregs of wakefulness left her, she lay down amid the grasses and let sleep claim her. They covered her against the dew in blankets woven of spiderweb and thistledown. While she slept deeper than dreams, the Fae danced guard around her.