Æfteraliða, she moved from life to death
her imprint lingers.
Hāligmonath, tears falling upon sodden soil
as apples fall from ancient trees.
Hidden within a heartbeat,
a promise waiting for Hrēðmonath.
Shullie Porter is a 50 plus multifaceted, oxymoron, who can never really make her mind up. Writer, picture taker, blogger, occasional cake baker, gin drinker, and likes in her spare time to paint furniture. She has a fascination for folklore, witchcraft, the Gothic and walking on the beach.
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