The Guardian of the Serpents #Guardian #Writephoto

Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

The giant had been there a long time. As long, they say, as the serpents themselves. His body nestled into the cliff face hidden except for his stone face. Brows furrowed with concentration and lined with age warned even the bold to keep their distance. Not many were brave enough to mess with a giant, even one who looked like he hadn’t moved in ages.

Most failed to notice what he guarded, or wrongly assumed he was guarding them from falling of the precipice. Fools! If they fell it was no fault for him to own. Let them do what they will. Humans were often such careless creatures, believing their bodies would somehow defy death. Yet they had long forgotten how to fly.

The serpents watched, unnoticed. Their twinned noses pushed into the wind while their bodies pulsed Earth’s veins.  Few witnessed the power of their alchemy, because they had learned to fear lightning. But what a gift it was to watch! Fire called from the clouds as it sought the womb of water. To witness creation from their mouths…what a pity, the guardian often thought, that their minds had gone numb.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #guardian

Recycling and Climate Change…18th May 2020…and Covid-19…

This week in Eco New from CarolCooks2:

Retired? No one told me!

Hello and welcome to this weeks edition of recycling and climate change news from around the world. Covid-19 is still dominating the news many countries now are relaxing their quarantines and already some are seeing an increase in new cases.

Thailand is not as yet but they were prepared as were the other countries in south-east Asia…Having dealt with Sars and other pandemics Asia is prepared…We don’t have a problem wearing masks and many do regardless of whether or not there is a pandemic.

We don’t protest we just accept that there will be quarantines and social isolation and get on with it…

Not so in most western countries people object…well it’s not being weak, scared or stupid or even controlled it’s me being considerate…The government is not controlling me…I am a contributing adult to society…I am wearing the mask not for me but for you…

Are you wearing one…

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#Dance #writephoto #stonecircle

Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

They came to dance with the stones. Drums found the unheard rhythm of the mother beat, opening the sacred veins. Above, ravens circled the moon, full behind a mist that would soon part. Even the children were unafraid. Perhaps even more so than their elders, for they were closer to the thinning veil. The air, stirring the tide into spring, was cool, but the fires burned with heat.

They arranged themselves by order of birth. Those closest to the womb found the center and those nearest death, the edges, but the dance wove them together. Feet weaving the grid of the hidden lines, as the energy rose into the opening. And with it rose their song and the mist, which parted upon the sigh of the wind. One last breath and all was silent as night unveiled the path to the stars.

Time collapsed into dimension and space revealed no separation as one tiny hand reached through the veil to welcome them all home.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt “Dance” 

The Giant and the Sun – The Silver Stream (A Thousand Miles of History)

Sue Vincent shares a day that will always be sacred for me:

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

“There is an alchemy of fire and water going on within and without.”

Alethea Kehas

It is early. The streets of the Dorset village of Cerne Abbas are quiet as we make our way through the hush of morning to a place of perfect peace. The churchyard attached to the old Abbey has been planted with a row of young yews, marrying Christian tradition and an older paradigm and carrying the past and the present into the future. Old stone bears carvings of angels and the abstract images of lichen and there is something very appropriate about walking through a place of the dead to a moment that marks a new beginning.

Our destination in a green temple… a grove through which a pure spring flows, sheltered by stone and with a colonnade of living trees arching overhead. These linden trees are known as the Twelve Apostle by locals. It…

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A beautiful poem by Sue Vincent from her collection Life Lines:

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo


I whisper you to the west,
The mist carried your name across the cloud-path,
Coursing through the life blood of rivers,
Washing far off shores as tides ebb and flow,
Drawn by the moonlight.

I whispered you to the south,
The sun shone for you, gilding your hair,
Sand devils danced with the serpents before you
Passionate abandon of summer
In a painted desert.

I whispered you to the east,
The breeze took you, caressing your skin
Kissing your face as you laughed in the sunrise
Filling your being with breath
In jealous intimacy.

I whispered you to the north,
Where the hills curve around you like a lover,
Undulating gently beneath your body
Pressed close to her green mantle
As the sky darkens for you.

I whispered you to my soul
Your name echoed in the star filled void
I found there. And every star was you

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Recycling and Climate Change…11th May 2020…and Covid-19…

This week in Eco-News from CarolCooks2:

Retired? No one told me!

We are now into our second week of a new month already nearly half a year gone…A few months of sadness and grief for many but for all of us unprecedented times and restrictions which many of us haven’t experienced in our lifetimes…Curfews, working from home, only going out when necessary… obviously different restrictions wherever you hail from…some more stringent than others…Not much has been relaxed here a few internal flights but I went out briefly today…shopping and nothing has been lifted in the shops…Everyone is wearing face masks and some full-face masks..screens are in place for cashiers…no buses just tuk-tuks with the hand cleanser bottles taped to either side…in fact, it seems more screens are in place even in the small coffee shops there are screens across the middle of the tables…

However, we still need to be vigilant and carrying on with our recycling and waste less in…

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Hope in the Shadowland #Causeway #writephoto

Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

In the land filled with shadows hope slipped behind the clouds as the light receded. The great womb of the sea felt the hollow, pulsing the dull ache of emptiness. “What have we done?” the lonely souls called into the wind. Long ago they had given up a reply, but something was different about today. The breeze felt softer on their skin, like a mother’s caress, urging. It brought the scent of honey to their lips. “How can it be?” they wondered.

Resigned necks lifted tired heads, and eyes sought answers from the sky. How long had it been since they had looked beyond the horizon? Above, gray clouds morphed into shapes deformed and grotesque. Yet still the eyes gazed above, transfixed, for the eyes were seeing themselves. “Do not look away,” the voice whispered through their minds, “you must see who you are and who you can become.”

And so they looked, following one scene of horror as it passed into another. And as they watched, the earth below began to shift. Above, the gray of hatred gave way to pain. Bruised and battered, the clouds turned violet-blue until sadness released the heaviness and tears began to drop upon the lifted faces. They trickled down naked arms and fell, one drop upon another, into the womb below. Heavy with need, Her water’s broke in release and the causeway lifted their bodies to be reborn.

Together, they shuttered and sighed as their lungs released the effort of holding back. And the sky above continued to change. Pink bloomed around the edges of violet as their hearts softened into harmony. One hand reached for another, and then another, until fingers laced a pattern of unity. The wind blew away the final wisp of gray and the mirror broke into blue and gold. A warmth that felt like wonder filled the land as joy slid from the golden rays of a sun long forgotten. Cells felt the memory of truth and began to dance the feet back to life.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt challenge #causeway.