16 August 2019

Estuarine

Salty August air,
undulating aqua glass
reflects quaking heart

08 July 2019

Home Again, Home Again

The first thing that struck me was the aroma. The combined fragrances of the old house were the triggers that unleashed a flood of memory. The dam broke around ten years of time gone and memories burnished. Ten years since I walked through the door on the first day of ownership, seven years since I left it to embark on a quixotic quest for a happiness that was never quite attained. Time folded in on itself. Dizziness overtook me. To exist in the Then and the Now is a peculiar experience. I stepped fully through the door. The aroma intensified. Lightheaded, misty-eyed, I was home again.

27 June 2019

The Other Side of the Sun

Phone call unheeded
Glazed eyes watch emerald leaves
Solstice wanes away

20 June 2019

Flash Fiction Thursday (or, I’m Too Tired to Write More)

In the bottom drawer, on the day of Big Papa’s funeral, the boy found the pistol, worn shiny bright. He stuck it in the waistband of his goin’-to-town clothes, where it clung to the small of his back in the Georgia heat. Ten years later he was shocked at the loudness of the shot, even though he never heard the scream.