Del Darlson leaned on his shovel and watched the muddied water burble across the dry alfalfa field. What it murmured he could not say, but he heard the unmistakable laughter of a certain young woman. Above him the clouds unraveled and reraveled the shape of her face, her long slender arms, an angle of her … Continue reading Maria Joseph and the Hills Like. . . .
Of all the ways to open— blackbird on post—oke-n-leedr red winging away
The link below resurrects the writelee.com post most appreciated by the readers. Even In Darkness
The orchestra begins “O, say can you see,” and in the dusk those boys rise again from the tree line and form in rows sung into them with “Mine eyes have seen the glory.” Ranks waver and writhe like banners over rise and hollow. And boys begin to fall. Gaps appear and close, a fatal … Continue reading Waiting for Fireworks at Antietam National Battlefield
Today my chore— the damned invader weeds! But o, mustard's yellow?! I know it's a stretch, but think of it this way: a gardener deciding not to pull the yellow mustard sets a precedent. A lovely one but one that could be unpopular?
We venture to catch the stars. She has what it takes to dare— courage, camera and will to challenge winter night. I carry light she doesn’t need, except to set her snare. We march, father squire to his daughter’s knight. Snow is pale under dappled sky and creaks as we walk; our breath wisps away, … Continue reading Star Hunter
I begin to see with new eyes— the scales have been scraped away, all the yellow, all the scum— how bright the grass with new eyes— a greener shade of winter yellow— with the scales scoured away. How brilliant Kathy’s eyes their lively green unochered through my new unblistered lens. I begin to see with … Continue reading Cataract Surgery
The writelee.com poem "Depth of the Mirror" is currently appearing on the wordpress e-zine See it at: Depth of the Mirror on The Drabble .
All her lines are fine and shift in remarkable ways as she brushes hair, hip and décolleté, or strokes to draw an eye. A simpered lip shapes vocabularies and certain curves string a long line of one-eyed rube-in-ruts in their wake. she will amuse the dandy or dangle depending on her angle, But, what he … Continue reading All Her Lines (the Artist)
O, they are an innocent few and frail as morning dew concerned with what not to do. Right-out-of-the-package new, they habitually eschew the good old raunchy screw far past the age of twenty-two. Can you tell me who? These are the sweet __________. Please post your response to the riddle in a comment.