The Rook comes with night.
Mysterious and dark he stands. Gold-tipped onyx wings catch the moon’s rays and dance across the water in ripples of mirrored silver. His scent of earth, wind, and fire swirls in the mist and draws me into outstretched arms. Lips press against lips and souls unite to soar between the shadows of time and space.
One moment there.
The next, gone.
Morning brings faded memories of his essence. Reality or only a dream?
There. In the marbled stones. A feather. His gift. A promise.
With a wish, he will return.
Coming soon from The Wild Rose Press: The Rook and The Raven