{Sun Down, Yellow Moon, I Replay the Past} A Bit of Prose

It's been a long week. I feel the black dog settling in around me a little bit. I rearrange furniture, put pictures in frames, eat ice cream, try to unbend the heavy tightness in my bones with movement. I tell the black dog to go home. He's a wanting thing. Sleek, with bottomless eyes, yearning. He misses my harbor of comfort, of long days and longer nights held tight in each other's animal warmth. I rarely let him inside anymore. And though this rents my heart, tugs me toward the earth in its grip of gentle teeth, I keep the door shut, let the sun go down, pull the covers close, and dream of running, of birds flying, of ocean waves, of light, of the sound water makes as it holds a body in a steaming bath, of horses, how gentle they look in the evening sun, hooves dug deep into the cool of the welcoming earth. {What to wear? 186/365 by shes jack on flickr via Design is Mine.}

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