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Continue reading →: >Mother, Christmas Evening
> She sat quietly in the circle, less and less words each year but more and more smiles and twinkles from her eyes. Laura came with me to take a spot in the circle. I think she got it. She got the time line and the echo to Christmases past.…
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Continue reading →: >That Blows…Then Again Maybe Not
>I wonder if the plumeis the last of his brain cellsreaching for freedom I wonder if Dorothywill whip out the oilcan to loosen the horn I wonder if he sawlovers kiss longand indescently in the square I wonder if hejust wanted to play tapsand head to mid-town I wonder if…
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Continue reading →: >That Face Rings a Jingle Bell — Part III in 55 trilogy
> “You!” the merry gentleman said as he backed into the mailbox. “Who were you expecting?” Donnerresponded with a “deer in the headlights gaze”. “Maybe Blitzen, but never in a million…” “Quiet! Now reach around slowly and hand me that card.” “Santa will deliver that. It was an accident.He didn’t…
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Continue reading →: >She Has Written
> Oh what a night Late December back in ‘63 She entered a fiesta world a Latin girl with a root word for me A pure form tucked on a shelf in the secret end of the stacks a book mark of rose petal In a quiet place whispers came…
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Continue reading →: >Clinking, a winter memory
> So, why do boots that have a row of clasps remind me of my father? You know, the over boots that often are hard to push the heel of your shoe through. One could almost dislocate a shoulder pulling a heel through the last inches like a baby’s crown…
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Continue reading →: >Untitled(The Photo is the Title) For One Shoot Sunday
> She wasn’t broken plasterShe wasn’t boxed lightShe wasn’t crawling shadowsShe was the maiden on the prowof a ship long strandedon reefs of mustymemoriesShe was beautyShe was graceShe leaned for me pointingto the next hopeof rebirthof whispered echosdown hollowwalls of decision
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Continue reading →: >One Note is All
> Christmas a tinge of Christ the One who is the very Love of God A messianic verse sung through the din and lost am I without a crystalline note of soul snatching rhythm from prophecies set in time before ever I was the suffering injustices fell upon swaddling linen…
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Continue reading →: >For Whom the Bells Toll…a sequel for Flash 55
> The jingles faded off into the eastern distance. He snuffed the roasting chestnuts and left his paper on the coffee table. With card in hand and boots buckled he dashed like dancer to the box and put the flag up. He turned to find Donner filing his rack with…
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Continue reading →: >Aurora Borealis
> we stood together almost silently with mutual awe for the celestial apparition pointing with guiding words of wonder as the glowing curtain danced and skipped in the northern sky like a nervous ghost its translucent evening gown tucked and furled in the folds of the wind we stood together…
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Continue reading →: >Hobby or Passion…why differentiate? My dish for the potluck
> you are reading my hobby in Calibri body 11 you are in between the lines of my passion the keys my brushes the screen my easel I know no other form from morph to myth with eloquent with wry bread toasted a tea stained stint or coffee cream like…
Gerald the Writer 