The Charioteer

for The Honeybee

The sun rides far

like a chariot in the sky

pulled by gleaming horses

and the charioteer sees all

I rode with him once

sight seeing tourist

everything below us so small

the world seemed

a child’s blanket

spread out to make a map

I felt very grand

Until the charioteer turned the horses

away from the haunts of man

he had a secret smile

he knew more than I

at the world’s end he tied his horses

their manes streamed gold

then quiet purple in the wind

and the sea mist rose up

ocean waves crashed

the cliff was bare white

and dizzyingly steep

and then I knew insignificance

the world was grand

and I was small

the charioteer knew all along

I think I’ll ride with him again

Crocheting Magic

for dVerse & the Honeybee

there’s magic in color

yellow blushing into pinks

fading into sunset purple

variegated yarns

wound around my fingers

looped around my hook

that dips into forests

and seas

crocheting magic

Opening

for The Honeybee

The mouse crouched at the base of the rosebush, waiting; gathering courage to run. It poked its head out, then dived back into the roots as the tall ones, the ones the sparrows called humans, passed. There were two of them and they stopped by the rosebush for such a long time the mouse quivered and despaired of ever going home. At last they moved on. In relief the mouse darted away, but in a moment it tumbled back whacking its nose with its own tail.

            A monster with glowering eyes and a gaping mouth! – but it was only a motif on the wall. Half covered by roses, the carving was difficult to be seen. The mouse righted itself and scurried away, squeaking indignantly. It was no good having such a creature on the wall. No good at all.

The Honeybee is a new blog I've started for writing prompts. Feel free to head on over and leave a response there.