No results found.
-
The dusty journals
Image generated with AI. Junebug looked at the stack of dusty handwritten journals in the corner. Like hell she wanted them. That’s all she needed, a stack of hundred year old books piled up beside the toolbox in the laundry room. Maybe they’d be better next to the washer, between the shelf where the charger Read more
-
Flutter
Above the trees wings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breeze What’s left of theLeavesAs they race to flyHigherIn swirls and in whirlsBend to the groundAnd I dipThen upBefore I touch and soarAnd dive down againAlmost to the groundFallingWings spreadBlack and cawingOn the breezeBefore fall Becomes Winter again. Read more
-
Today’s Expectations
Today is a day that I have lots of unexpected things on my mind. I’m not feeling particularly creative as much as documentative about it. There’s flour all over the kitchen because there’s no point in cleaning it up yet. I’ve yet to make the pastry for the pasties. I expected to have that done Read more
-
Unexpected Thanksgiving Visitor
“Room for one more?” Shelly said with that sideways grin of hers and Wisconsin accent. The daughter of my mom’s estranged sister was at my door. I’d recognize her anywhere. She had the same stringy hair and bangs she did when she was nine, and her mom left her with my parents for the summer, Read more
-
This year I am Thankful
This year I am grateful for so many things, but what swims to the top of mind are my live-in son, Ian and his girlfriend, Norris, and of course my writing group. Ian and Katelyn have gone out of their way to be nice to me. I appreciate being included in their plans and lives. Read more
No results found.
-
Norris Tales…
Norris Tales, The Adventures of an Awful House Cat . I like to call Norris Tales hyperbolic nonfiction. Norris has superpowers of good and evil. Norris, the actual cat, is sixteen years old. He’s become that friend you argue with all the time. He’s demanding. He wants cream, or attention, or no attention. He doesn’t…
-
Work it, Sandy
Work it, Sandy. Downpours aren’t kind. Just as predicted, water soaks right through that magazine on your head. Independence means you make the choice to run from here to the door in the rain whether your mom says you can or not. You still get wet. It’s part of life’s journey. The big stuff, you…
-
Holiday Head Webs
Holiday Head Webs I declare my independence from the tyranny of head webs, stuff that wakes me…dumb stuff. There have been a bazillion books written about incidents and accidents that leave deep wounds that still bleed. I was supposed to watch my brother at my sister’s cheerleader practice. He was two, I was ten, she…
-
The Road
The Road Haunt yourself. What does the sky hunt when it is the color of the red tailed hawk? Hope caught in the clouds and turned to dust, drifting Freedom and loneliness balance between the ground and glory. No footprints on the planks to paradise.
Devonne Brown 