Ron Koppelberger

The Fellowship of Dusk

(Borne by Dawn)

He stalled the opiate modern jargon with a whisper, “Silence sweet child!”. She smiled and calmed in degrees of ease at the sound of his voice save the sound of the revolving planet. “Look here child of hard love and bartered dreams, look here toward the seed, the wont of dandelions, pregnant and needing a suitor for horizons endless bloom, look here!” He held a dandelion before her; it was seeding and fluffy in wisps.

She calmed again and he pulled her close, a father’s love, a protector knowing the advance of boyfriends and guys. He saw the bloom, her destiny in fields of endless saffron yellows.

“My sweet daughter, your husband shall be a cradle for your fears and a sunset for your days, a touch of dawn for your concerns and the promise of futures bidden, and he whispered her name, “Sweet Hope, Sweet Hope.”