I woke up with butterscotch on my mind; a hankering for something sweet, smooth, light to soothe my aching throat perhaps.
The day is well on its way. Cirrus clouds are stretched across the sky, unmoving, in expectation.
Something is new. It floats in the air like three notes of an unsung melody; it toys with consciousness without staying long enough to become thought; like the echo of a passing shadow.

Doves are quarreling for territory. Far away barks climb up the hill along with noise of city clutter. Random sounds, all familiar, none the silence of Flauzins, Merlin’s land, intrude and jar my soul a little.

The Med, wearing the palest shade of blue, is pensive as well, reflecting haze and clouds, hanging on to this moment, to eternity.
Perhaps a storm is coming…

Yes, butterscotch would be nice; a tingle on my lips, a riot on my tongue, balm in my throat, bliss among butterflies before I face the day.

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
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11 Responses to Butterscotch

  1. ladysighs says:

    You know that I liked this piece very much. The thoughts that go through our minds as we stretch and prepare for the day ahead.

    Then I read this: “The day is well on its way.”

    Somebody will be late for work. 😦


  2. pjb1943 says:

    Em, you’ve done it again. This is sooo gooood I could smell the air off the water and had the taste of butterscotch on my tongue. How did you know I liked butterscotch???


  3. AnElephantCant help but notice
    Emmy is a brilliant raconteur
    And he knows she is wise
    So it is no great surprise
    Elle aime bien le caramel dur
    He also must say
    Ce n’est pas le beurre Ecossais
    Or his rhyme would be several lines fewer


  4. I shall feed it you



  5. Scutterbotch in our house and, yes, I love it too! 🙂


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