Hi! This is my poem entry for the March 2022 fic prompt, "It was then that my mind cleared and everything went into sharp focus.  I had been to this place.  I knew this place.  But from when I could not recall... I would have to investigate".

From Thence, I Could Not Recall

Earthshake.

It is enough to frighten the others, but me? I must not fall into such traps.

I am the leader of my herd, of my collection of terrified souls that continue forward endlessly. We follow the Bright Circle, but we do not trust it. We find no peace in its sameness, for though it may sink away in the sky, it always returns. Should we sink, should I sink, then we will rise again no more. A Longneck's neck is long, but it does not cross the chasm of death.

I am learned in Earth's great art.

I hasten the pace of the others. There is not time enough for the stragglers. It is an unkindness, but it is for the sake of the herd. Our kind do not survive well on their own. Fear and distrust become our deceptive allies when alone, and eat away at us like no Sharptooth ever could.

When I first left many seasons ago, when these Mountains were just beginning to Burn, I was afraid. I was afraid to leave my herd, small and incomplete as it was. I could tell even in those days that we were far outnumbered by the other Leafeaters and their own families. But I had faith, faith that whoever was to be born into our herd would strengthen us, would remind us of the reason why the Bright Circle rises.

But I had to find a home for them, first. For all of them. The Earth, it seemed, had other plans.

I fear not this Earthshake, for the one many seasons ago tore deeper wounds than what the great rocks show. My pursuits may have been noble but the journey I faced was a far cry short as my feet carried me through fields of famine and other tired travelers on the desolate landscape. When I thought I could not stand to see the Night Circle once more, the Great Earthshake came, loud and unforgiving.

I turned back.

I faced away from the Bright Circle’s promises and dragged my tail in defeat, hoping upon hoping that there was some chance that the family I had left behind still remained.

The air was acrid with fire and haze. I held my head high over the ash, though I also could not stand to see the valleys so torn and maimed by shattered rocks and broken trees.
When the blaze soared higher than I is when I stumbled upon it. What was this break in the Earth, this great gorge before me? I looked down to see an abyss of nothingness, a curse upon this land. But why should I be so abhorred?

Though the haze still permeated my surroundings, my mind cleared. I had been to this place before the Earthshake, before the life had been drowned out of it in a deluge of fire.

Where was our nest, my hatchling that surely must have greeted the Earth by this time? Was he out there? Why could I not recall where my home had been?

The charred terrain offered me nothing but the same, endless pit that stretched down before me, trailing down and away from life and into the darkness that I could not venture forth into. My nest was down there, and I knew that if I was to survive, I had to turn back.

There is nothing but the Bright Circle now, and my permanent march towards its unfaithful light.

  Hi! This is my poem entry for the April 2021 fic prompt, "Write a story from the point of view of this character: A leaf".

Treestar Memories

Ruled by the leaf.

The dinosaurs knew it well. If the journey to the Great Valley had taught them anything, it was the sheer importance of their precious green food, their Treestars. Life would cease in the way that they knew it.

But what of the leaf? It knew not.

The leaf could see the sky above it, the branch upon it, and the ground beneath it. The leaf has always permeated its surroundings. It was well-versed in the windy swaying that the middyear storms brought, surviving the ash that fell upon it in Earthshakes, and the tearing it felt when it eventually was tossed by the elements to the earth below.

Or eaten.

And yet, even in death there is life. Though the leaf can never know its merit, it knows its purpose. It fills nests and dinosaurs' bellies. The Treestar is good. That is something it can comprehend in some way, by some strange stroke of the Earth's wonder. The leaf has no allegiance to that but to the earth itself.

One Treestar had a particular fate.

For reasons unknown to the leaf, the others had completely vanished. Many eaten, others crumbled away into dust only to be carried away in the breeze. As far as it could tell, it was the last leaf in the grove of trees it had always known.

The seasons had changed before. Following the Bright Circle's ebbing and flowing, the other leaves had fallen and regrown again, stronger than before. It seemed to the leaf that perhaps times were different now. Something had been changed or interrupted, and along with it, the other leaves it had been nestled in beside had completely disappeared.

Where were the others?

A leaf cannot exactly express loneliness, though its purpose seemed to be evading it. When would its earthly journey finally commence? The leaf had no way of knowing what fate it should find. Would it too fall to the dirt below and seep deeply into the ground? What eggs would it surround and warm, if there were indeed still eggs to warm?

The earth rumbled, shaking the leaf about on its spindly branch. The rhythm and steadiness of the thumping alerted the leaf to the fact that it was not elemental, but the tell-tale steps of a crossing dinosaur.

A very tall one.

The leaf knew not of all the divisions and tribulations between the earth-dwellers. What could it know that the other leaves had not known in their treks across the landscape? To tell the leaf that it was a female Longneck reaching up towards it would mean nothing; each one was always the same.

But this Longneck sought not to eat him. How peculiar to be plucked down from the dewy sky and down to yet another dinosaur, a smaller one. The leaf knew not of young, though something seemed to be different. Why must it be given to them?

This leaf was a gift. It ruled not the dinosaur, but heartened him.