When the storms come, life falls from the sky. Drops merge and rivulets race. Puddles deepen, spill over. A stream resurrected, begins its disoriented crawl to the sea.
The storms come less frequently now. Our fields lie baked and burned, crumbling like old chalk.
“Got any work?” Continue reading Bereft
Wind tickles past my ears, whispering dreams of long ago. I turn my head to listen to the hard-wrought tales of giants and men, of stones and bones, of beauty and pain.
“I want to go.”
“This is boring.” Continue reading Cappadocia
Sally worked herself up. “Why would anybody want to go there?”
“Rocks and dirt. Bugs and maybe a lizard. It’s hot!” Her face was puckered up like she’d bitten a sour lemon. “Yuck!”
What could anyone say to such an onslaught? Continue reading Colorful