As woolen clouds touched earth and grew to fog, the sheared sheep shying, as sunlight dropped and puppy-dog wrapped its naked fur in dark, they started out. Stark shepherds crossed the wool-clad field, wool-capped and gowned, where downy grass-heads dripped their milk-white strands, slipped down the hill. Soft lambskin covered the small boy’s hands, bleating; he carried his task. The town lay sleeping.
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Lights danced and sang in candy clouds above, star speckles glinting in fleece. And the baby boy? The shepherds gave him a lamb.
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Child’s hands grow cold. It really doesn’t matter anymore. He waits for the son.
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For Wednesday Writing Essentials, December 9th:
- The story/poem/essay must occur at night
- All characters must be male--no females allowed this time, except for the author
- Use Petrarchan Conceit or simply Conceit as a Literary Device as many times as you wish, but at least once.
- Use the phrase:Â It doesn't matter anymore.
- tag with wwe






Comments: 23
Thanks for sharing with The Surreal Circus.
immortality
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Bring smiles to my face.