Marjorie Tudor:

A Reverie
a prose poem

Thundering hoofbeats of the stampeding herd of horses echoed across the prairie. A cloud of dust arose in the distance as the horses came into view.

She crouched in the gully, murmuring sound of spring fed rivulet muffled; spring green, rain softened stream bank soft blue with Quaker Ladies, hand close upon the noble head of her Sheba.

Easy girl. They waited. Pulling the dog closer, soft tongue licking her sweat-stained hand, the two spoke to one another, silently, as only two united by love and soul and mind and spirit may speak.

The gently swaying hammock had lulled her to sleep; the dog, curled between curved roots of an ancient copper beach tree, still asleep; the open book still held lightly in her hand.

Sweet smell of new mown hay lingered in the air, and the sounds of muffled, male voices intruded.

Easing herself carefully out of the hammock, dog close upon her heels she floated, weightless through the lavender twilight of the gentle June evening.

"Sheba? What do you think? Will we find him? Will he be there?"

Around the dilapidated, fallen down porch of the deserted house, faint tracings of red paint stain still visible on the clapboards, pausing to touch the soft petals of blushed, white roses hugging its kitchen stoop, fragrance following, the two passed and then paused at the barbed wire fence.

She whistled softly, so softly, no one must hear, no one but him.

A faint shadow appeared in the distance, black in the moonlight, muffled sounds of footfalls coming closer.

She slipped under the fence, waiting, heart fervently beating.

A wagging tail beating ever faster too until...

There he was.

Whispering sweet love words she wrapped her hands in the thick curly mane and leapt upon his smooth, straight back, leaned over the strong neck.

"Let's go."

The sound of hoofbeats thundered away into the distance; the dog, a swift shadow close behind.

And over, muffled, but carried on the wind, the soft whoo whooing of an owl.

* * *

Biographical Note for Marjorie Tudor: I wrote constantly from the time I was old enough to write - journals, poetry, little stories - but for my own pleasure during those growing up years - then majored in journalism at Boston University and worked summers for the Middletown Press. When I got married, I stopped writing. This is what I have done till now.
1.   Taught high school English and language arts.
2.   Raised four fine children with the help of my husband, this in a small southern Vermont town.
3.   Became a doll artist.
4.   Learned illustrative watercolor.
5.   Helped found and manage our small family business, Tasha Tudor and Family.
6.   Conduct a summer writing program at the Louisa May Alcott Museum in Concord, Massachusetts, which encourages children to explore other creative outlets, such as art and music, along with the writing.
7.   Most recently collaborated with Boston Children's Theatre on their 2009 production of "The Velveteen Rabbit". The production included live actors and puppets. I made the puppets, eleven of them.
8. Wrote and illustrated a children's book, "Let's Be Friends", which was published in Japan.
This selection, "A Reverie", is taken from my childhood memoirs, "The Queen of Sheba Diaries."
Just recently, I have found my voice again.