Quickies

Short pieces written at the whims of life. Not the worst writing in the world, but probably not the best. For now, you can click into any of the stories you see except the one in the box ... I'll be fixing that later, but it's a lot of work. Feel free to scroll to the bottom and use the tags to filter down what you're seeing. Hope you enjoy.

000

Caught in the anticipation of something beautiful, something perfect, something real, we wait with baited breath, longing, hoping, keeping. And in that hope, comes the satisfaction at the last.

The thunder is sparing, the clouds dripping in beg it for more.
Not a flash or a spark, just the sound, the clap, the rolling roar.
Rain threatens but never acts. The grounds thirsts, unsatisfied.
Cool air slowly creeps, the pressure of air changing every second.
Dropping, sloping, sliding toward the inevitable, the desirable.

Not one, not two, not three hours but more.
Can the build keep pushing, keep structuring, keep drawing its goal?
How does the air become electric without her weeping pair?
Only the aching sobs of the timpani clue us to the mystery that brews.

Is it novel? Never. Not once. Nothing needs that.
And yet each and every, always and again. Brand new.

A deep breath. The breeze carries the chill ever lower.
A sparkle, a glitter, a glint, a gleam. Is it truly over? The agony of waiting.
Another cool prick, a pin on a palm, confirming the prophesied place.

The unique and the beautiful. All falling. All bringing a new world for tomorrow.

Let it snow.

Nota Bene: The title was an accident. I was simply trying to type a triple hyphen as a separator, and the zeroes made me happy ... don't read too deeply into it, friend.

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