an orange-brown soy milk box, kindergarten size, cradled delicately in the roots of tree, held by corners only, floating above the ground
two dragonflies, exhibitionists, clinging to a florescent light and locked in shimmering gossamer love.
black sequins in a matte black sea carefully sheltering a pure mind opening devoutly to Friday morning prayers
the slicing blade of a machete in black hands bent low, sending the sharp sweet scent of cut grass as an offering to the morning breeze
fluttering butterfly with yellow rose petal wings dancing accidentally through the classroom
sun-warmed lizard scurrying on splayed-toothpick legs, long tail trailing dutifully
flashing ten-year-old grins and bumping shoulders as blue-checked shirts make their way to school and another day of adventure
the stillness of exhaustion written in every line of her body as she bends over another boiling kettle, tending the never-ending needs of a canteen full of mouths
muted murmured greetings and secret handshake as old friends good friends true friends meet again
night-shadowed true love sworn in hushed voices on the steps of home as the specter of curfew creeps ever closer
ghostly remains of lessons past traced in spidery shadows over each other and the ancient black board, reduced in a moment to drifts of dust
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2 comments:
Amazing. Simply awesome.
Its the details that make your writing so delightful. Do you keep notes or do these just come to you as you sit at the computer? Inquiring minds want to know (so maybe I can teach the third graders to do this someday?)
I love you always!!! Susan/mom
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