Smoothly, upon the wings of night eagles,
it rises,
and swiftly is carried aloft by the wind

white as stars,
it flutters
before being caught again
then, floating,
before the grey of a new dawn
the wind slows, then is gone
the eagles have vanished, for now

the moon is watching
pale, and marked,
just as this is,
this thing that gently brushes against wet grass
in front of your house

You come out in the morning,
the sun is yawning,
that early
there it is,

Chapter 17

The clock on the wall
it's mocking me, I think
and the seconds are marked
by the drips of the sink

The ticking, dripping,
scratching, scrape
I sit at the window,
I watch and I wait

The phone's almost sleeping
it sits there, won't ring
though I sigh in frustration
it's rather annoying

I can't sit and read
can't stay still long enough
and yet at the same time
I don't want to get up

Chapter the Fifth

Just a bit more of castle-doings before Aria must leave, and we shall go on.