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In homage to the forestIts heavy shadowsDeep and darkGreener than green,even when the sun is brightand the begonias bloom deep red.Bits of grass, spindly and fine, grow around the river of moss in dotsLike cattails before they’re cutThe bells of the foxglove ring and ring and ringWhen the air moves soft electric Blue Morning glories
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I’m learning what will grow, and what will grow successfully.
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Her leopard, high heeled mules sure footed in the gravel.
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Of course there was glitter.
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It looked like somebody made wedding bouquets and needed my blue and white bloomers.
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The sound started there
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Doesn’t my interpretation of the painting count? Isn’t it supposed to be a hanging Rorshact test?
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I ran away from home a couple of times. Once after college I went to Texas for no good reason. The last time with a man to England, half an hour from Stonehenge. We had to get married. I was pregnant. I won’t do that again. I came back. I am the same person I
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The crowd-in-a-box jerked into silence when the shrill squeal pierced their ears.
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Good King Wenceslas
“I love the way the full moon glistens on the snow when it’s deep and crisp and even like this, not a mark on it,” the good king said. It was St. Stephen’s Day, Boxing Day, the patron saint of stonemasons and bricklayers, the first martyr, stoned to death for blasphemy. He was also the Read more
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Gilly and the Peashooters
“Gilly and the Peashooters” was first published in Appalachian Fusion, Pine Mountain Sand and Gravel, Contemporary Appalachian Writing, Vol 27 Read more
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Creation sans fear
I don’t have to practice transcendental meditation to create masterworks, maybe I do. Read more
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She’s back
Her worst nightmare had come true. Diane was due back to assume command of operations in two weeks after being out for twelve for surgery. Her employees were happier without her. People got along better, things ran smoother, life was more relaxed. There were fewer feuds among staff, fewer emergencies popped up, things were just Read more
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In homage to the forestIts heavy shadowsDeep and darkGreener than green,even when the sun is brightand the begonias bloom deep red.Bits of grass, spindly and fine, grow around the river of moss in dotsLike cattails before they’re cutThe bells of the foxglove ring and ring and ringWhen the air moves soft electric Blue Morning glories
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I’m learning what will grow, and what will grow successfully.
-
Her leopard, high heeled mules sure footed in the gravel.
-
Of course there was glitter.
-
It looked like somebody made wedding bouquets and needed my blue and white bloomers.
-
The sound started there
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Doesn’t my interpretation of the painting count? Isn’t it supposed to be a hanging Rorshact test?
-
I ran away from home a couple of times. Once after college I went to Texas for no good reason. The last time with a man to England, half an hour from Stonehenge. We had to get married. I was pregnant. I won’t do that again. I came back. I am the same person I
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The crowd-in-a-box jerked into silence when the shrill squeal pierced their ears.
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Sanctuary
All day I will talk nonsense. I will repeat a paragraph eight times in a day. I will point out its main idea, drag it out, make people paste it in a book, and read it back to me. I will pass out little pieces of paper with vocabulary words on them and glue bottles,…
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Morning Curtain
Snow laden limbs are replaced by blossoms falling to earth and flowers push up from underneath. Early snowdrops and daffodils show off their color peek from recent fresh green. Wet brown earth gives way to the promise of gardens, of deep green shadows and tomatoes Something more than squirrels digging through dried leaves. The smell…
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The Road Trip
The road trip was a mindset. It required no preparation or preparation of all things, especially the house before the departure. After I took care of the laundry, the cats, the mess, and the packing, I was ready to roll down the road. Time was not of the essence on a road trip. Stops were…
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Let’s Call it Art
“That painting on the wall is askew and is about to fall down on the fragile candy dish on top of the buffet. Between the shards of glass that escape and the bits of sweets that scatter, it will never be safe to go barefoot in the house again. Move the damned painting,” He said.…
Devonne Brown 