Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 72. Echoes and The Back Field
Echoes
Swallows dive
over riffled water
gossiping about the mourning doves;
mottled sycamores soar, embracing cloudless dawn,
and cottonwood snow marks my midsummer mornings,
its downy seeds strewn among daisies
and yawning primroses
like snowdrifts
reminding
the radiant sunshine
of winter.
The Back Field
There are pleasures waiting in the long grass,
unexpected treasures in tiny blue-eyed flowers
just rising over one’s toes,
miniscule mouse-sized wild strawberries,
and watchful phoebes surveying the world, impossibly perched
on single slender stalks,
inspecting the devil’s paintbrush and everlastings;
there, spiders bustle and weave delicate silver tapestries,
near telltale mossy beds
where the soil thins out over the granite ledges,
perfect places for children to hide,
deer to recline with their spotted young,
or for lovers to lie concealed under smiling summer skies,
and in the deeper velvet darkness watch the fireflies
ascend a million feathered seed-heads
to dance and flash and mesmerize
the endless stars.
If you have a comment or thought, you know I would like to hear it, no matter what it might be.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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