roseembolism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roseembolism) wrote2018-10-28 02:29 am
roseembolism) wrote2018-10-28 02:29 am
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(Repost) Twenty-second Minor Spirit of October: The Hunt
Reposted from...elsewhere.
Twenty-second Minor Spirit of October
The Hunt
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
You've never seen their passing, but you've heard the the howling of engines racing down the street this time of year. There's even a trace of the old primal fear, enough to cause a shiver as you lie in bed. But really, they aren't the same.
Horses are for the countryside, and obsolete; urban streets are no place for old methods. So, now they have steeds of metal to race on the streets. It could even seem a little poetic. But it just isn't the same.
New environments lead to new rules. And the tracks of asphalt and concrete have SO many rules. Yellow lines and white lines and turn lanes and stop lights - STOP Lights! The laws of humankind weigh heavily on the Hunt.
The red-eared hounds could not keep up, had to be diminished, shrunk until they fit in panniers and backpacks. They still yelp in silent fury. It really isn't the same.
And don't even ask about what they hunt, now. It's downright embarrassing, what prey you find in the city.
Still, you hear them gunning their engines in a wailing chorus these Autumn midnights, and you shiver.
They are no longer what they were. But you have to wonder what would happen if you met them on your bike.
I don't know either. But I'd rather you wait to try. I like having you here. And when you rev the engine on your bike, I hear an echo of that hunt.
Twenty-second Minor Spirit of October
The Hunt
Instead of Inktober, I'm doing a spirit a day for October.
You've never seen their passing, but you've heard the the howling of engines racing down the street this time of year. There's even a trace of the old primal fear, enough to cause a shiver as you lie in bed. But really, they aren't the same.
Horses are for the countryside, and obsolete; urban streets are no place for old methods. So, now they have steeds of metal to race on the streets. It could even seem a little poetic. But it just isn't the same.
New environments lead to new rules. And the tracks of asphalt and concrete have SO many rules. Yellow lines and white lines and turn lanes and stop lights - STOP Lights! The laws of humankind weigh heavily on the Hunt.
The red-eared hounds could not keep up, had to be diminished, shrunk until they fit in panniers and backpacks. They still yelp in silent fury. It really isn't the same.
And don't even ask about what they hunt, now. It's downright embarrassing, what prey you find in the city.
Still, you hear them gunning their engines in a wailing chorus these Autumn midnights, and you shiver.
They are no longer what they were. But you have to wonder what would happen if you met them on your bike.
I don't know either. But I'd rather you wait to try. I like having you here. And when you rev the engine on your bike, I hear an echo of that hunt.