Young Alex had a head most aerate; and his buff was perfectly lyrate. But empty pate and curvaceous shape wasn’t precisely what the bear ate.
He sees God’s hand, the way grasses lean north. She knows: autumn wind. Posted in response to the Ragtag Community Daily Prompt enchanted and the One Daily Prompt prediliection
“I never mattered much to you, did I?” She walked into the water. What mattered was not my saying, but her. She is water, awash in the fantasy that a speaking matters, that my saying matters or that any saying of things matters. How tell the sea of my heart? So, I didn’t say. Dolphins … Continue reading A Matter of Speaking
Against his grasshopper plague The Saint prayed for seagull angels This morning, only blackbirds.
“You put a hole in my heart like the grand canyon. . .. ,” Audie wrote. He was sick and tired of women. And Deli was the latest of the worst. All about her. Like saving it for a rainy day was life. Hell, life was gather roses while they bloom. Not this faux virgin … Continue reading A Girl to Heal a Fissured Heart
Jewel of morning, dew glint on willow leaf. Summer wind shakes it
It was a long day. They rode most of it, climbing through bottoms heavily timbered by fir and spruce with patches of aspen yellow in the draws and along the creek. At first, they followed a marked USG Forest Service trail, the blazes browned with time. Ora lead the packhorse and Mike rode behind. Near … Continue reading Probably Should have Taken the Trail
Summer fallow plot, cheat grass and pigweed tangle— wild sunflower yellow!
Summer dusk, poem thought— hummingbird hums in, whirs out— gone, just like that, it's gone. A poem composed last night before the Ragtag Community WOD, transition, was posted—but applicable.
In my willows, magpies— will they yatter this conceit all summer long?