the dark blue waters of evening had pooled in the bay hemmed in by mountains studded with lights when i saw you for the first time and thought "at last, we meet again."
there you stood feet in the waves curls tumbling into the night i saw myself reflected there saw years shared before this moment of meeting.
you were humming my favourite song and when we began to talk we couldn't stop our words raced each other clambered over and around in eagerness in recognition in pure golden elation until
something changed in your eyes and you kissed me i felt a great opening an unfolding the gentle settling of a life that before had known nothing of itself and now stood
suddenly
steeped in sea foam
seeing itself.
About the Creator
Maria Stallmann
Born and raised in South Africa, Nature has always been central to my writing. With my current studies in Environmental Humanities, I am exploring the theory behind nature writing. Read on for stories on Nature, people, nostalgia and more.
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In Search of Beauty
In early Summer (in the waning of the moon from May to June), I set out on a quest, à la Odysseus. Only I had no ship and it didn’t take me 10 years to reach my destination. After a few hours by train and car, my travel companion and I were there. My destination: Italy. My purpose: to seek out beauty.
By Maria Stallmann2 years ago in Wander
She loves me
She loved me. When I was small and my wee stayed to the paper. When I was rumpled skin and floppy big paws and big eyes looking up and waiting for her hands to find me, scooping me up and bringing me into her. And we were happy, so happy, so very, very happy. I was so happy to see her and danced my circles so she'd know how much I wanted nothing more than for her to hold me. I'd wrap, wiggle, wiggle and wrap my growing body with my bestest happy dance, slumping and kerplumping into her warm parts just like she liked me to. She was there and I was there, and we were there together, and it was perfect. Oh, how she loved me! We spent all our time together, playing inside, outside, up, down, going round and round. And she petted me and called me good girl when I made poops, and sometimes when I weed in her front yard or the neighbor's, and I was the best girl. For her, I really was! And she scratched me behind my ears, and it was heaven. I aowooo my joy! And she aowoooed hers too.
By Christy Munson6 days ago in Fiction
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