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Continue reading →: Birds over Computer Fan
The rite of spring is singing louder. Louder than my computer fan. The blue jays are shouting. The robins are talking over the fence. The sparrows and chickadees are speed dialing. This is the first spring in the country. The window is cupped open. My ears are too, and…
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Continue reading →: Sunday Rest
The sun yawned it’s roundness. The cardinals sung unto the Lord, and the stars faded into the brighter blues. Another dark night of the soul receded. She lies sipping on air and rolls ice chips with her tongue. A foot tapping and arm twitch under linen veneer. She,…
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Continue reading →: Negotiating Pooh, Reposted for my siblings and friends.
I was in the hospital gift shop looking for a stuffed chicken. Barbara, my wife, loves chickens. The clerk said, “sorry, no chickens.” So I headed back to the emergency room with Pooh bear under my arm. Barbara smiled and affirmed my love for her. Pooh’s station at home…
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Continue reading →: Touch
I held the Kleenex and she blew. The temptation was to command, “again.” She always said “again” when I was runny-nosed boy. I put a dot of balm on my pinky and glided it onto her mouth. She used to orbit her lips with a red stick while I…
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Continue reading →: Hall Light
She dozed off in a Stryker bed. Her head tilted and cricked. She mumbled and snored a bit. It was an afternoon nap and we just were. Might I stay until bedtime to tuck her in and say a prayer? I’ll leave the light on and the door…
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Continue reading →: Round Words
It was such a big room for a little old lady. She had her glasses off and oxygen on. Her eye color was hardly distinguishable from her pupils. They were two special dark chocolates, with little distinction between the pupils and brown rings. She almost smiled at me. I asked…
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Continue reading →: Midnight Mouse; Just a mother story.
From bed she could see the fridge. Fifteen feet away. Her stomach would snore herself awake. Hallway tunnel vision would ensue. She sat up and turned toward the safe full of leftovers. Her very own midnight oasis, and whatever dreams may come this would be the feeder of those…
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Continue reading →: Cracks
When I was young, I had your back by uneven steps on the sidewalk. I stopped paying attention. I had destinations. Oh, your broken back. The dandelions pushed through to see if I would look down. I kicked the buds off their bases. The cement was mine and I…
Gerald the Writer 