Rare Sunrise

Ron Koppelberger

Rare Sunrise

The rhythm of enchanted illusions and blooms of wheat in cadence with the early dawn, the yielded flow of indigo cloaks that ethereal rays of sunshine assure in spirit of distant hopes and blessed depths of possession, he wondered and mused about those things as he shadowed the wisdom of haunting haze with the heart of a heaven in transit. Just a whisper as he awoke to the day and the future of golden sprigs and sprays, clever bond with the dream that was an eternal sea of amber grain and unimpeded worshiping saffron halos, in preparation for the talent of legend and angels in watch.
It was a managed eloquence in the holy yield of adventure surmised by the passage of tide and the transport of soul for sure savannahs of grain. They found the lineage of custody as they found the rare sunrise. He was bound by waves of fresh sunglow as the breath of calm seas filled the edge of the treasure, the accessory that bidden souls were drawn to in tempers of harvest paradise, berths of Eden and the lay of god

A Breed of Rain

Ron Koppelberger

A Breed of Rain

The eclipse of mystery in omens was a deluge in the life of Prey Claw. He found the crème in his coffee was curdled yet sweet and allayed to the harmony of sunshine dawns and wont. A wonder of ascending taste and a mildly amused rhythm of tender embrace. Prey sanctified the contents of his cup and swallowed the bidden blood, “Ahhhhhhhhaaaaaahhhhhh.” he whispered in satisfaction and passage.
The springtide fray he thought in simmering reserve, the course of maelstroms and the way of weeping rain, he considered the beholden day and birth in trade with the gentle assay of what is and what has been a tear in the depth of miracles and myths of coffee care, a sweet and a bitter barter. He sipped and found respite, reprieve in rages of fortune.
Pray strapped the leather harness across his waist and shoulders in easy movements of bond. Bond between the gods of chance and the fates that tell muzzy dreams where to sleep, where to amend the night and the calm in secret repast. Prey secured his harness to the edge of the cliff and around the trunk of an enormous weeping willow. The sun whirled immigrant beams of warmth and stray moted substance of soul. Prey took a final sip of coffee and in betrothal to the arrangement of wind and sun, teasing mountain balance and rapt crowns of revelation, secured the poise of his task and he sang as he absorbed the present.

“Foretell the blessings

Of daisies and dandelions

In tempers of rare wine

And wild adventure, A

Consonance with salvation.”

The will of god saved Prey that morning and he endured in courage and sighs, wonder and sensation.

　
* The rope snapped and a child would amend the faith in Prey, she would make him whole and in sunshine and rain, she would show him the paths of harvest saffron.

Anthologies Featuring Stories By Ron Koppelberger (Available at Amazon.com)

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