The mother of all the small framed canines (Mar 6th)

She wore a white and flannel dress. The stripes were a warm red and were tightly kept close in relation to the white. Her dress was old fashion. It blossomed like a tulip facing the ground at the bottom. It looked the way you would picture a figurine from Holland looking. Over her billowing dress, a proportioned to her size apron; lay effortlessly across her body. She was dirty from her labors but appeared clean. Her goodness I guess hid any imperfection. She was glowing with love. Her radiance was exemplary. She flowed like a gentle riptide curling onto shore. You could say she turned a thin color of white. That let the sun shine without any interference, but still felt every inch of its warmth.

This elderly lady lived a few miles outside of the town. On a hill top perch she lived her whole life. She was the protector of the forest and all the animals inside it. On day while she slept a great fire consumed the forest. She dreamt of smoky highways taking her to the stars. She awoke to the searing realities that she smelt the smoke in her sleep. Her heart shriveled and then sputtered to an almost complete stop. The world in that moment seemed to stop spinning. All the gravity in the universe turned its attention to her expression. She tore the very threading that holds the sky from the heavens. Her look of shear horror was enough to end the world. Just knowing that love has been changed to hopelessness. What a hollow and destroying feeling that would bring. The world was silenced in those seconds.

As her heart started pumping again. It had seemed the sky became brighter as if it had been dimmed by some respectful cloud. The old woman gasped as if spewing a cyclone from her mouth. Her forest had been taken. She had nothing left to live for. She was no longer a shinning example of bliss. Now she was normal. A bit more aged looking then that of any figurine you would ever find. This woman was broken and it was obvious in just a passing glance. The forest that she once protected and all the animals inside had died. This old woman was now a widow to a thousands forms of life. She knelt down in the silt and scooped up a pile of ash. Forming it like a mound she built the shape of a small dog.

This pile of smoking resin and dust starting shaking almost rhythmically to the sound of her breathing. She took note of this in astonishment. Almost being thrown back in shear shock. She tilted her head as if not to offend it by over reaction. She squinted and focused her eyes on the earth as it continued to pulsate inline with her breathing. All of the sudden this form took boundless flight. Diving through the air like a paper airplane.

This woman now covered in grays and blacks turned in an almost perfect pirouette. Searching that once foreign landscape of her perception. For some form of that life that spawned there in front of her. She saw there in a settling billow of ash three small framed foxes glaring at her curiously. She smiled and the force of her glow crescendo across her whole body. Like a shock of electricity to the chest to revive a ceased heart. Her glow kicked back on like power returning to a city. the force of that energy threw the rubble and destruction away in a great gust of wind. That landscape was remodeled into an open plain. Where the three foxes or coyotes.. The small framed dogs like wolves or a hounds. Could be seen running around in the vastness of that haven. The old woman stood almost triumphantly as she looked out on her new reasonability. She would be the new mother of all small framed canines.

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