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Wild Flower Crimes When I crush the head of a clover bloom, the scent carries me to that far off field where my weed battered knees cut trails by the blackberry bush. Where the old man let us feast on his jam flavored crop of wild fruit, and told us tales of when his hair was crowned with dandelion fluff. Where the overhead hum of power lines cursing the heat of summer was the only thread we used to find our way back home. Where the king of the day was crowned based upon who found the biggest possum skull, or smashed the tallest crawdad hole; swearing he fought off its occupant, who was the size of Bobby’s dog. Back then, the trash of ditchesMore Like This
In The Dead of Winter: Part 1Kalina stumbled through the snow-filled field, tripping for what seemed like the hundredth time. She fell face first in the snow and sat up, wiping the snow from her face as she tried to bundle herself up more against the cold, only wearing jeans, tennis shoes and a black long-sleeved shirt. Her desperate brown eyes scanned the open area around her as a strand of black hair fell in her face. Kalina didn’t see any sign of life around and gave a sigh, which seemed broken in the middle from her being so cold, not knowing how long she’d been outside. She stood up after another moment and started walking forward again. After a few minuteMore Like This
Woodland WanderersMist rose from the wood’s undergrowth, filling the air with sparkles that appeared as fairies from a faraway fantasy. Fresh life was everywhere, seedlings poking from under the dead leaves from the winter, as if the underlying goodness in the world was coming back to me. All was calm. Only the faint breeze could be heard moving the gigantic trees with those refreshing moments of wonder. The enormous trees seemed to stretch upwards as if yawning after decades of hibernation, finally the world was coming to life again.More Like This
The sharp summer sun shone rays through the canopy cast over my world by the friendly giants, the effect created was wond
Sta.sh
