smoke and ash stirred
by rough winds, the pounding rain
quenches summer fires
summer steals away
in the soft stillness of night
and in it’s place, Fall
in the fallen leaves
gold of a vanished sun
summer’s gift to autumn
Image by Robin Anderson
Category: Dreams
T-Rex Bird Lizard
6 Word Stories by Becky and Tor
T-Rex, scales and/ or feathers. Bird lizard
T-Rex, T-Rump tiny hands and brain.
T-Rex, when will science know you?
Who is T-Rex? Science can’t decide.
T-Rex, Thunder lizard, children adore you.
T-Rex, T-Rump itty bitty useless hands.
Predator or scavenger? Hawk or crow?
Kids love T-Rex, long dead danger.
Kids love T-Rex: plush teeth, claws.
T-Rex can’t run. Olympic speed walker.
T-Rex drawing by Tor Harper
Portrait of a Lady
in an old portrait
she stands poised, oddly ready.
does she smell mouse blood?
the perfect dress hugs
her nubile form, alas no
hat to hide her ears.
hungry but calm she
awaits the arrival
of her hapless mate
6 Words on Writing
Write, coffee, write, coffee, write, write…
Pen to paper, brain to hand
To outline or not to outline
First drafts, eeek, eeek, eeek, eeek
Edit, tear out hair, edit again
The Advantages of Fog
Soft edges, dim light, quiet.
We awake to a foggy morning. Much discussion at breakfast; will it burn off? Should we drive inland for a better chance of seeing the sun? We decide to stay put.
As the morning progresses, the bright disk eats away our gray blanket and patches of blue appear. We are hopeful now. But when the moon begins to digest the sun, the temperature drops and the fog re-forms.
On the dune, it is even foggier but we hope to see the eclipse shadow racing across the ocean’s surface. This is the only place to do that now. I set a timer for Totality and speak with my fellow shadow seekers. We spend as much time looking seaward as we do staring at Earth’s waning star. The timer tone, crickets, sounds. A last turn to the west as a cooler breeze brings oscillating shadow bands and the soft charcoal mist of a 230,000 mile deep darkness.
Cheers erupt. Eclipse glasses are flung aside. Bare eyed we gape at coronal glory. Not the stark white blue light against a night sky that we expected. No stars appear, the fog obscures them, but in exchange gives us another gift. Refraction. Pink, blue, green and red filaments twitch and dance around the moon’s dark face. She is a Medusa satellite and for a moment we all turn to breathless stone.
At last, the fog kisses us and we awaken, perhaps with tears on our cheeks. More cheering accompanies the scramble to retrieve glasses. Then wild applause as the sun emerges, vanquishing the troublesome moon, burning away the fog and setting our seaside world aright.
Image by Paul Rysz via Unsplash
Eclipse
Six word stories
Corona, sun’s afterglow, revealed by moon.
Bailey’s Beads, risk sight to see?
Image by auntmasako via Pixabay
About a Dog
nose, eyes, tail wiggle
Dog greets me at end of day
pure joy in motion
insatiable interest
the dog trembles as she waits
for the small rabbit
silver sunlight spills
over windowsill and floor
the sleeping dog sighs
Image by Robin Anderson
Eclipse
Selene and Helios, A Drabble by Becky
Selene’s love is boundless. Her dark seeks Helios’ light. Her cold seeks his warmth. She wants him to see her, gift her with a fraction of his intensity. He is blinded by his own brilliance and doesn’t notice her pale luminescence, though she is so close he could touch her. He only sees the other stars, distant in the firmament, but matching his glory.
She vows, “you will see no one but me,” and envelops his radiance in her ghostly glow.
Her love cannot hold. He breaks free. But she plays the long game, beginning her obsessive celestial dance anew.
Six word stories By Becky
Wizard’s work, subtracting sun, revealing corona.
Shadow passes over the USA, only.
Selene in dominance, Helios in hiding.
Syzygy-sun-moon-earth in line.
Sun-Moon-Sun- equal werewolf confusion.
Six word stories By Tor Harper
Oh look, the eclipse! I’m blind.
Preschool lesson, don’t stare at sun.
Ancients said panic, Oregonians say party!
lullabies
ropey clouds at sunset
played out over a beryl sky
the tide slipping out
in a quiet room
only the sound of pages turning
pen scratching paper
asleep in the cabin
the restless heart of the sea
echoes in her chest
Image by Robin Anderson
Mean Tide
She rode into town on a mean tide. Exhausted and dirty, she figured she was washed up, done for. But in the morning she changed her mind, cleaned up and put on the paint that made her feel young again. At an open air market she picked up a fellow and decided to go back to the old ways, the siren song, maybe lure him to his death?
No luck. Instead he placed her on a shelf with glass floats and a wooden fish.
Now she dreams of the sea.
Image by Robin Anderson