Tag Archives: nature


In a way, I’ve walked into a thorny, gnarled forest.

It’s not the old-growth oaks and not even the thorns and tricky underbrush that trips up my step.

It’s the eyes watching me, those fiery opals embedded in the shadows.

They scrutinize me and they scrutinize them and they scrutinize each other.

They’re abysmal.

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Words Underground

Scribe is submersed, subaquatic.

Scribe, breath held, is swimming like a jellyfish.

Scribe, at home in the moment, coexists amicably.

Scribe hasn’t thought to surface for air.

Scribe is landless, stretched thin.

Scribe, stride full, is sprinting like a cockroach.

Scribe, with shadow-born pallor, makes ready.

Scribe will jump toward daylight.

Scribe is airborne, flying.

Scribe, wings extended, is soaring on thermals.

Scribe, eyes closed and at peace, floats higher.

Scribe knows not of descent.

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Wednesday Write-in #18: A Perch for Pruning

Wednesday Write-in #18 @ CAKE.shortandsweet

Prompts: the worst party :: grumpy :: waterfall


“Some waterfall,” said Pete, pausing to put flame to his smoke. “Thing’s plain grumpy if you ask me.”

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Urban Perch

If I were to find solace in this concrete tundra, this structure maze, it wouldn’t just be in a specific place like the central park or the library. No, it would be in a time of day, too. And somewhere self-effacing.

“What did you do yesterday?”

“I crawled up the side of a building to a ledge and found a place in the overgrowth. I pulled my knees in close and watched the waitress girl sweep the sidewalk outside the restaurant across the street. Cars passed by and I saw them but I doubt their occupants saw me. And after the sun dipped below the point I watched the lights illuminate the sign above the door.”


Solace in a time of day, you see.


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