City on the Shore

City on the shore above ground and below water. Which is real and which is vision-magicked? Both shimmer in summer sun and slight city smog. Both see life dart and dive in, out and about without seam. A dream of harmony. Elements ignited and united in muted mirror images.

Adrien and Aoife part 2

 

Aoife and Adrien part 2

The cart bumped across the rutted road and the gully left by a stream long dead. As she walked, Aoife noted the small clumps of dried dirt sent flying by the turning wheels. No one rode in the cart. It was used to haul their precious wares from town to town.

Aoife was sure she’d already walked from one end of the earth to the other, and halfway back. She was tired. And hungry. Yet the caravan would continue moving until dusk which meant at least two more hours of walking.

She heard the dogs who always ran at the front of the group bark and yip. Had they sighted a rabbit, or maybe a deer? She hoped so. It would be good to have meat tonight.

The snake of carts and wagons moved around some obstacle ahead. As she neared, she saw it was a child with snarled dark hair. A boy who seemed to be about her age though he was taller. He stood at the edge of a crossroad watching the passing people, animals and carts. He was very thin and his clothes were little more than rags, yet he stood with an easy confidence that captivated her. As she neared him, she pulled an apple from her pocket and rubbed it against her sleeve. He watched her hands through lowered lashes, hunger painted on his face.

When she reached him, Aoife stopped, the waning sun in her eyes. Their shadows stretched long across the dirt. She held the apple out to him. Their fingers touched as he accepted it, and a thrill of recognition ran through her. She knew he was special. Aoife held his gaze and just as she was about to speak to him, a gruff shout broke their reverie.

“Aoife,” her uncle bellowed from the cart he drove at the back of the caravan. “We’ll not wait for you. Leave that scruff of a boy and get moving. There’s wild and hungry beasts along this trail and you’ll not wish to meet them once the sun goes down.”

The boy bowed briefly to Aoife before turning and running into the forest, apple still in hand. He didn’t notice that he left without his shadow. It stayed joined with Aoife’s, held by her foot. She bent down, carefully gathered the boy-shaped umbra and gently, ever so gently, tucked it in the large

locket she wore around her neck.

She looked toward the trees one last time before running to catch up with her people.

Aoife and Adrien (part 1)

Adrien tried not to look at Aoife, but his gaze was drawn to her like sparkle to a star. He lowered his eyes as though he was reading his book and hoped she wouldn’t notice him watching her through the shadow of his long, black lashes.

He drank in the line of her jaw. His lips ached to kiss the point where it met the curve of her neck. The simple gold chain she wore glinted in the afternoon light, beckoning. Her crystal pendant hung just above the cleft of her breasts, barely visible beneath her modest blouse.

Aoife raised her slender hand to push a lock of hair from that had fallen on her cheek and he was undone, again, by that graceful neck, no longer shrouded by her tresses. Truly, he was stung by love, and a pleasant sting it was.

Adrien felt the color rise to his cheeks as he thought of what it would be like to hold her and murmur into that darling, delicate ear. Would she welcome his secrets, his confessions?

Resolved, he closed his book, stood, and walked to her.

*****

Aoife looked up as Adrien approached. Had he seen her watching him? Did he know that she longed to rest her cheek against his shoulder? That she yearned to feel the whisper of those long, black lashes as he kissed the tender place where jaw met neck?

Her whole village knew of him, but only she understood him. Of this she was certain, and she was unafraid.

She knew he was beautiful to behold. She knew that he was strong and faster than thought. She knew he would be gentle. And she was not surprised that he arrived without a sound. She was also not surprised that he arrived without a shadow. After all, it was she who had stolen it when they were small children, their families passing on a rutted road. This was what bound them together. Did he remember?

Maya Papaya and Bethany Beet

Maya Papaya and Bethany Beet
lived two houses apart on Garden Street.             

 

They met and became the best of friends
playing together until each day’s end.

 

Bethany Beet had six brothers at home.
The only girl, she had a room of her own.

 

Maya Papaya was an only child.
When she arrived, her parents went wild.

 

Bethany Beet had seven white mice
named One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six and Ice.

 

Maya Papaya had only one pet,
a happy dog, Izzy, who loved to fetch.

 

One day Bethany Beet called, tense with fright.
“My mice got out of their cage sometime last night.”

 

Maya Papaya said, “Izzy, we’ve got work to do!”
She grabbed the leash, the dog and her slip on shoes.

 

They ran down the sidewalk to Bethany’s house
And arrived in minutes to hunt for the mouse, er – mice.

 

 Izzy put her nose to the ground and began to sniff

That’s when she found the mouse named Six.

 

Next she found mice One, Three, Five, Two and Four
They were hiding behind the garage door.

 

Izzy searched the yard, west, east, north and south.
She finally trotted back with Ice in her mouth.

 

She came to Maya Papaya and Bethany Beet
and placed mouse Ice at Bethany’s feet.

 

Bethany smiled, then snorted, then laughed.
Ice looked like he had just had a bath.

 

Bethany Beet put the mice in their cage
then fed them lettuce, spinach and sage.

 

Bethany’s mom gave each girl a treat
and for Izzy, a juicy ham bone to eat.

 

Maya Papaya and Bethany Beet,
very best friends on Garden Street.

 

 

 

Connected by Shadow

 

Adrien tried not to look at Aoife, but his gaze was drawn to her like sparkle to a star. He lowered his eyes as though he was reading his book and hoped she wouldn’t notice him watching her through the shadow of his long, black lashes.

He drank in the line of her jaw. He wanted to kiss the point where it abutted the curve of her neck. The simple gold chain she wore glinted in the afternoon light, calling him. Her crystal pendant hung just above the cleft of cleavage barely visible given her modest blouse.

Aoife raised her slender hand to push a lock of golden hair from where it had fallen on her cheek and he was undone, again, by that graceful neck, no longer shrouded by her tresses. Truly, he was stung by love, and a pleasant sting it was.

Adrien could feel the color rise to his cheeks as he thought of what it would be like to hold her and murmur into that darling, delicate ear. Would she welcome his secrets, his confessions?

Resolved, he closed his book, stood, and on sure feet, walked to her.

Aoife looked up as Adrien approached. Had he seen her watching him? Did he know that she longed to rest her cheek against his shoulder? That she yearned to feel the whisper of those long, black lashes as he kissed the tender place where jaw met neck?

Her whole village knew of him. But only she knew him, understood him. Of this she was certain, and she was unafraid.

She knew he was beautiful to behold. She knew that he was strong and faster than thought. She knew he would be gentle. And she was not surprised that he arrived without a sound. She was also not surprised that he arrived without a shadow. After all, she had stolen it when they were small children, their families passing on a rutted road. It was what bound them together. Did he remember?

Fortitude

 

Sip surely my friends

The nectar from your cup

Savor and relish

The fire in your throat

You will need it in the days ahead

To bolster your courage

And batten your hatches

Against the blowback of

Political spittle

As it flies from the forums

Spewing waves of misinformation

And obfuscation

Each candidate claims to love you better

Than any other

 

Images melt and merge

Our flag and Christians' bible

Abused as props

Issues appropriated and distorted

To fit a predefined narrative

 

Impossible to discern earnest

From dishonest

Hyperbole from fact

 

We, the people, stand dazed

Amidst the wreckage

Of our country

Sane and Insane

"Dang it! I told you to stop tinkering with the formula. The full extent of the interaction implications may never be known."

A wavering sphere hung in the air between us, partially obscuring Charlie's face, yet I could see enough to recognize his irritation at being interrupted.

"Seriously Charlie. I know mom left you in charge, but you just can't go about creating concoctions for blips and giggles."

Charlie walked around the manifestation until we were nearly nose to nose.

"Charlene," he hissed at me. "You are such a bossy britches. You're just jealous because I have more talent in my little finger than you have in your own body.

"Me jealous?" I laughed. He may be my brother, older by 3 minutes, but any similarities between us ended at unruly brown hair and an aptitude for the arcane. Mom should really have named us night and day, or dark and light, or sane and insane. Now that would have been fitting.

The wavering blob moved closer to Charlie and hovered over his shoulder.

"Charlene, what I did isn't a mistake. I meant to create this. It is my life's greatest achievement. "

With that, he turned and dove into the blob, disappearing. The blob belched before gliding out the open door.

Mom was going to be so mad.