Pilgrimage

My mixed up pilgrimage turned the blueberries orange. I should have known it would. I could never keep track of anything. Orangeberries! A new unique fruit dressed in the rarest gold. I let one squash up against the roof of my mouth so the orange flavour seeped across my tongue. This would spill the circle of the year. Had it been sent by the witch of war and chaos, I wondered. At this thought I spat out the berry curiosity ended. She was a like a conjurer creating a culinary remnant of another age. But I would not be another broken hearted sage. The stars would lean down to kiss me. I would catch her and those pearly teeth would be locked in a sealed letter. It was challenging but escape always was. The end is nigh, but is it ever really the end while the cockroach lives.

The copyright of this post belongs to Moira Cormack