I breathe a perfume made just in time.
Can you draw the sap from a wild cherry tree?
Everything we’ll ever know
takes off it shoes, wiggles it toes
. . . faith moves the world in a little wheelbarrow.
She’s the puppet, but he’s on a string in this story of They Have Everything. He wears his pants a little too tight. She loves to be… Read more “SHE’S THE PUPPET, by Llewellyn McKernan”
When Midnight comes,
it’s saintly as the dog
wading in the stream
of the Very Odd.
This angel is a sweet young zebra-striped thing.
I know how to get and hold the blues.
. . . I break into crumbs that feed the birds, one by one.
She once had a daughter.
She once had a son.
. . . it floats on the surface of a creek, splitting fine hairs in a fit of pique.
. . . nothing but ashes in a cup of flame, everyone is guilty, no one’s to blame
She loves the mountain she has to climb. Each step is a leg up, a joyous cry from the straining muscles that strengthen her thighs. Each stone… Read more “SHE LOVES THE MOUNTAIN, BY LLEWELLYN MCKERNAN”
Bird Wednesday glued the world to a bone.
Gourds Adorned for Autumn!!!!
The preacher was a neat spare man in a yellow shirt and navy blue slacks. Had she not seen the maroon Bible pressed underneath his arm, she’d have mistaken him for a Vista Volunteer.
When nothing happened, Vernie began to fear the worst. Anjean had been murdered and no one had identified her body. She’d been sent to the medical school in Morgantown; the Adult Service Work having checked the box, “anatomical gift”.
Vernie hadn’t looked in the coffin because she’d got a good look at him when he was born.
Bee on native Virginia “mystery plant”. Photograph by Gail Ratliffe
More Bog to the Blog!
The Blue Jay is a trickster!
A master touch with a brush brings nature to the fore.
On wings and wind, flies Glory!
He was creating something. Instantly, she knew what it was.
Any sane man would stay inside. But they weren’t sane, they were desperate.
Chapter 81 Bridon was not as solitary as the rest of the Brethren; in fact, he found living on the side of hill in a stilted house… Read more “Chapter Eighty- One”
Plague had entered willingly, the breath fresh from a young child, until all the bottles had been filled but for the blue. This had been reserved for Bridon of the Blue Stone.
The Long Road Home: Paintings by Allan
Contact: Allan Harbour at email@example.com for available paintings.
Chapter 79 Mirella wasn’t sure how to struggle. If she’d been alone, she’d have run. In the hills surrounding the Shivelite camp, she’d kept pace with the… Read more “Flight, Chapter Seventy Nine”
“Any Given Sunday”
Painting by Allan
She would take the prince, Mirella resolved, and protect him with her very life.