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Elle Wonders

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Scottish Highlands

Little Hollows Beckon

A synopsis of my novel-in-progress:

After spending years rebuilding her life, things are finally moving forward again for Willa Hawthorne. With a successful gallery exhibit behind her and a second collection underway, she’s making a name for herself in the art world. But after she becomes engaged to Evan Mercer, a handsome estate attorney, Willa still can’t let go of Jamieson Corbin.

With an uncanny sense of timing, Jamieson returns and pushes his way back into Willa’s life. Not only does his reappearance threaten her relationship with Evan, it challenges her very sanity, because there’s an impossible catch: Jamieson has been dead for three years.

From a small idyllic town in Rhode Island to a remote hamlet in the Highlands of Scotland, Willa embarks on a provocative journey of love and betrayal with an unexpected ally. When the two of them discover long-hidden secrets of Corbin Family folklore, they are beckoned to a place where light and darkness intersect, and spiritual boundaries are redrawn. After unearthing painful truths from the past, Willa must reexamine everything she believes about life and death and find the passage that connects the two worlds.

 

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Ode to a Corbie

Ode to a Corbie copyright
Photo of E. Wonders by E. Andreas  –  Artwork by HenriAltersLife

 

Ode to a Corbie

 

Swift an’ black, wi’ feaithers sleek

He looms atop th’ branches.

Wi’ time, an’ tide, an’ moors sae bleak

His battered sool, entrances.

 

Mirk ushers in, oan corbie wings

Deid silence. Ah wait an’ listen.

Fur th’ lest c-r-r-r-ruuuck! tae me, he sings

Passion stirs, an’ mah een, they glisten.

 

A yearnin’ quaver, rises up frae th’ glens

Roosed by his calls, his tooch, an’ his need.

Frae his swellin’ soonds, a’m oan edge, he kens

Fur his keen, whetted glances, Ah heed.

 

When love’s een close, nae glancin’ back

Yit charms an’ spells sometimes daur.

With his unearthly grasp, Ah shaa ne’er lack

Each other’s longings an’ vices, we baur.

 

Th’ sharp, duple pitch, shaa ne’er be far

Fur oor wayward ambition, lies a nether.

Mooths against skin, mak’ e’erlastin’ scars

Stronger than time, is oor tether.

Tho ne’er was he, a raven pure an’ reit,

Forever blows th’ win’ thru mah bones.

A new wicked yearnin’ micht willin’ tak’ flight

Upon th’ day, his black heart, atones.

 

© Elle Wonders – 2016

 


 

Ode to a Corbie (English Translation)

 

Swift and black, with feathers sleek

He looms, atop the branches.

With time, and tide, and moors so bleak

His battered soul, entrances.

 

The dark ushers in, on corbie wings

Dead silence. I await, and listen.

For the last C-r-r-r-ruuuck! to me, he sings

Passion stirs, and my eyes, they glisten.

 

A yearning quaver, rises up from the glens

Roused by his calls, his touch, and his need.

From his swelling sounds, I’m on edge, he kens

For his keen, whetted glances, I heed.

 

When love’s eyes close, no glancing back

Yet charms, and spells, sometimes dare.

With his unearthly grasp, I shall never lack

Each other’s longings, and vices, we bare.

 

The sharp, duple pitch, shall never be far

For our wayward ambition, lies a nether.

Mouths against skin, make everlasting scars

Stronger than time, is our tether.

 
Though never was he, a raven pure and right

Forever blows, the wind thru my bones.

A new wicked yearning, might willing take flight

Upon the day, his black heart, atones.

 

© Elle Wonders – 2016

 

 

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