I go through phases where I spend countless sentances just rhyming. I don't know where my inner poet comes from, or why exactly she appears- but she does every once in a while and refuses to leave. I speak in poetry to my animals, darlings, and friendly trees beyond my bedroom window (whom I whisper secrets to every night- they are the very best secret holders). For some reason I have taken on her again. I feel like every other sentance should rhyme and it takes every ounce of my concentration to ensure that such a thing does not occur- especially when I am writing something so dear to my heart... like this diary. But I seem to have made it through a paragraph now and the urge to collect likewise words is overwhelming. So I'm off to grab a notebook, pencil, and candle and play poetry writer to my hearts content.
Midnight Puddles
There is an ever so faded glimpse of sunlight on the horizon, but between the bouts of enormous rainfall- ominous dark clouds- and winds of a hurricane's strength, it's hard to believe that those rays of light will ever make it to my cabin window. We have had such weather for almost one week straight now. I mean, I am fond of the excuse to hide away in my covers for long periods of time- but the dirt roads are calling my name for a walk that I just can't give them. I've been sneaking around in the night hours to feed some starving pups around town- and even in my fifteen minute reign of the village I accumulate more mud and soaked clothes than any poised girl should behold. But, alas, I suppose my inner five-year-old does get the best of me in such times. And those puddles can be oh so irresistable. Besides, who quite cares when the hours are so late that only the dogs awaiting their food are awake? No one sees me, so I shall play in this harsh weather to my heart's content.
Rascal's Patience
The pup has now been passed onto Rascal. Coho has all but become annoyed with the responsibility of a rambuncious little devil. Rascal, on the other hand, has the patience of no animal in the world. And although the wolf in his blood should bring out anger- he only has the heart of the sweetest soul in the world. So the pup can growl, bite, and play constantly without even a nip of Rascal's impatience. Coho, on the other hand, refuses to allow the small terror into her home or even remote area for that matter. So not only has she all but kicked him from her side of the family- she has fully passed on all of it's hyper antics to Rascal- who evidently has taken to the little white fluff ball quite fondly.
Emotional Bedroom Chaos
My body has been craving the attention of a man. Perhaps my motherly instincts are in dier need of a child to behold. I've had dreams of birth, of labor, of the beauty and pain they both behold. But even more than that the covers are calling my lonely name. I need kissing, sweating, moaning, breathing deeply. I need the grasp and release of a bedsheet. I need a passionate exchange of two physical beings wrapped up in one emotional chaos...
Tune Of Droplets
The rain and wind are picking up. It may be one of our last autumn rainstorms. I'm enjoying the dark solitude. I like the sound rain makes. It's heavy, so my tin cabin roof beats with the rythem of the falling droplets. Snow doesn't have that effect. It merely brushes by in a wisp of the wind. So for the time being, although I am stuck indoors peering out, I am dearly enjoying the tune of one of my last little rainy days.
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