This hillside is an open wound. The other side of the gorge is twice as high as the side where the house is. The creek at the bottom runs swiftly with the roar of a waterfall.
The earth have been giving way under the tall trees at the edge of this hill for a while now. It has become a game of sorts trying to guess which tree will succumb next. Especially after a persistent rain.
The kids delight in coming here. They never forget their super soaker water guns. In a desparate move we started adding grass seeds to the water, and telling them to point toward the hill. This feels hopeless.
A cow is screaming across the arroyo. Everything else wanders through here. Why not cows! I start toward the window – I wake up, entangled in the blanket.
For dVerse poets pub The line we are to use with our flash fiction of 144 words or less are:-
Though ugly, colorful, tiny with spikey hair
To the little ones they bring no fear
Scattered over the living room floor
As Satuday cartoons invade my snores
In stumle from slumber my feet pay a toll
I’m face to face with those creepy trolls
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt is “Troll” for a quadrille..a 44 word poem invented by the members of dVerse Poets Pub. Drop in and have a read or join in. This prompt took me back to when my living roon was a huge play room, day in and day out.
Last night we had four inches of slurpy snow. This dawn, through the rhytmn of the melt, I hear the call of birds in flight. Wonder where they have been!
Last week I was on the hunt for spring in the garden. The wheat brown of winter holds fast. Not much has changed there. The pointy ears of tulips are nowhere in sight. Nothing yet from vines that make their home on the fence.
There are some noticable changes to the pear tree though. The buds that dawdled during the winter, are suddenly more robust. And the yearly co-mingling of the honeysuckle and grape is unavoidable. They are lined up to do what they do – run wild. All caught up in the fervor of march madness!
slurpy snow linger
on bare branches brooding
in the face of spring