reflected

i am the gossamer cloud
in the endless blue sky

the green of spring reaching
out of the soil

i am the cat
curled up in the sun

i am the worry on your brow
the kiss on your lips

i am the seeds of the dandelion
blown with a wish

i am the word unspoken
the earth under your heel

i am the burnt embers of the fire
the blur of the slow dance

i am the leaf caught by the breeze
alighting on the laughing brook

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Another delightful prompt from Eugi’s Causerie. Many thanks, Eugenia.

fresh start

For Friday Fictioneers
Flash fiction, 100 words

Photo copyright Anne Higa

The fairies gathered near the grotto at the appointed hour, their little shadow selves barely visible in the darkness. Their excited chatter could be heard almost like birdsong through the forest.

It took the strength of all the fairies, heaving together, to get the old wooden bucket lowered into the deep glowing pool. With Herculean effort, the tiny hands pulled the full bucket back up to the top. 

Their elfin cheer reverberated throughout the woods as they spilled the bucket out, dusting their wings with the powdery fairy gold. Sparkling anew with their magic, they flitted off into the night.

###

Many thanks to Rochelle at rochellewiseoff.com for this intriguing photo prompt!

potential energy

maybe you remember
standing close
but not too close
smiling, laughing,
knowing each other just enough
to feel almost afraid
tremulous with
our unspoken longing.
people all around us we couldn’t see
beyond our syncopated hearts
bantering and flirting.

i looked away a moment
and suddenly
felt your soft, playful touch,
a gentle tickle,
taking me by surprise.
i whirled around 
laughing,
eyes alight,
meeting yours,
that sparkling heartbeat
stealing my breath.

but i wonder now
that we two still spin
in the reaches 
of our lonely galaxies.
we might glow
a singular orb
but for
the harnesses of our wounds.
perhaps, who knows,
the comet yet roams
the wild deep skies.

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Many thanks to Eugi’s Causerie for this week’s prompt, “playful.”

the prompt

A to Z challenge, theme: anatomy, day 8: H
Flash essay, 100 words

Head, heart, hands. All three get in on the act when a writing prompt presents itself.

The head immediately jumps all over the word or the photo, tossing it around, looking for an angle. 

The heart is right in there, too, reacting with memories and feelings. People and places burble up, somehow jolted from the depths by the prompt.

The hands wait patiently in the wings until finally they get the green light. Within seconds, the head and the heart are right back in the thick of things, changing it up.

Somehow, between the three of them, a story emerges.

###

the fort

we crawled inside
our makeshift tent
a castle
of dreams and wishes

sheets and blankets
stretched across kitchen chairs
anchored here and there
with books and boots

provisioned with
flashlights and pillows
the precious teddy bear
our favorite picture book

giggling underneath
the drooping canopy
we hid out —
worlds and worlds away 

would that we could
build that castle now
a happy fortress
of unbounded possibilities

###

Grateful to Eugi’s Causerie for the prompt, “canopy.”

metamorphosis

We found the eggs of a Monarch butterfly on the underside of a milkweed leaf. Dad got a big jar and put the milkweed leaf there, along with other milkweed leaves. And we watched it every day. 

Soon, there was a little caterpillar that quickly grew into a big, tigerish caterpillar. We kept bringing fresh milkweed leaves, and the caterpillar ate and ate and ate. We put our faces right up to the jar to see.

One day, the caterpillar switched gears entirely and got about the business of creating its astonishing chrysalis, that ethereal pale green with the touch of gold, like an angel’s wing. And every day, we just watched and waited.

Finally, more magic happened. The new Monarch emerged with its limp wings. We stared, as the butterfly pumped and tested the wings. Then, we knew it was time. 

We took the jar outside and opened it up near the milkweed patch and the trees. The Monarch flew up into the skies. We stood gazing, amazed and happy. 

Little did we know then how tenuous life was already becoming for the Monarchs. We would watch every year for their migration, and slowly realize that something was happening. Their numbers were dwindling.

The glimpse we had of the precious and beautiful life of our Monarch butterfly made us open our eyes to the wide world and all of the ways we are connected — mysteriously and wonderfully. So now we watch for the butterflies and the birds and the fish and the bears and the bees and the milkweed and the trees and so much more, and we tread ever more softly in the home we share.

###

Many thanks to Eugie’s Causerie for the prompt, “observation,” that inspired these words.

sanctuary #WritePhoto

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

I topple recklessly down the stairs, hands flailing, no thought of falling in my panic to flee. I sprint to the door, both arms in front of me, only to find it locked.

A fresh cascade of tears falls on my hands as I turn the lock and knob in a frenzy. I fling the door open with a backward glance. I bolt, sobbing and panting, into the night air.

I quickly confront the large stone wall. Like a penned animal, I scamper alongside it, looking for an opening.

Whimpering with frustration, my hand on the cool stones, I feel my way to a small portal. I lift the latch with shaking hands and push through the gate. The sound of a step on gravel snaps somewhere behind me, followed by an angry curse.

I hurtle into the darkness.

By morning, I am disheveled and exhausted, but still moving. I feel the air on my skin where my bodice is torn. I begin to think again. 

As the sun climbs higher, I finally notice the unknown path I somehow find myself traveling. Dreamlike, a sea of lavender heather surrounds me. I glance upward where a hawk soars high in the sky. In the distance, I spot a diminutive spire amidst the green trees of a valley. 

A sudden rush of gratitude flooding through me, I trudge forward. 

###

Many thanks to Sue Vincent for this week’s #WritePhoto prompt.