writing

Break

Dreaming of work…it’s a sign to take a break.

Head constantly pounding, what did I miss?

The piles of work grows higher,

While less and less seems to get done.

Teaching, and stressing, and learning myself.

It’s time to catch my breath, it’s time to rest.

Counting down to sand and surf and sunsets.

Just days away now. Hurray!

writing

Jax

Smoke floated upon the air. The smell of burning wood brought to mind cool fall nights, football games, and hot cocoa. She pulled her coat around her, inhaling his cologne that still lingered on her from his hug. A smile crept across her face.

Her suede boots crunched through the leaves. She turned down the side street and walked along the Williams Cemetery. Leaves blew about as the shadows grew long in the full moon.

She heard noise coming from behind the gates. A child cried in the distance.

Her mind told her that it couldn’t be; why would a child be in the graveyard at this time of night? But she couldn’t ignore the plea for help.

She lifted the metal bar holding the gate closed, and pulled open the heavy iron door. She stepped through and walked along the path.

She heard a squeal behind her then the click of the gate behind her. Startled, she spun around, but saw no one through the light and shadows.

The cry behind her beckoned once more. She cautiously walked across the field, weaving between headstones, until she arrived at a freshly dug grave.

She stopped as a chill went up her spin. A faint figure seemed to move in the distance. She rubbed her eyes, and the mirage disappeared as quickly as it came.

Something brushed up against her leg, startling her. She jumped and lost her footing, tripping on the pile of dirt and tumbling near the edge of the grave.

She escaped falling in, but her foot dangled over the edge. She then realized a small kitten was sitting near her. He approached her, brushing up against her once more and mewing aloud.

She laughed at herself. The baby crying was this little ball of fur. She scooped him up and buttoned up her jacket, giving him a safe place to warm up.

Soon she stood back up and returned to the gate. On the wind, she thought she heard a whisper. “Take care of my kitten, please.” She shook it off as her mind playing tricks.

She opened the gate and shut it behind her. She picked up the pace as she headed home. Her heels clicked faster until she was almost at a run. She clutched her new friend to her so he wouldn’t be afraid.

The front porch lights were a welcome sight. She slipped out of her boots and stepped inside. “I’m home!”

Her parents looked up and the sight of dismay gave way to relief.

“What’s wrong?” She looked at them perplexed.

“Little Suzy was killed tonight, the little girl up the street. She was looking for her kitten, Jax, when she was hit by a car.”

She paused and gasped. She fished the little kitten from her coat. A tear ran down her face. “I think I found him.”

writing

A Nice Surprise

He slid into the seat next to her and glanced her way. “So, you wanna drive?”

She lifted her hand to him. A black silk sleeping mask dangled from her index finger. “Yes, now put this on.” She giggled softly, “It’s a surprise.”

He plucked the mask and scoffed. “If I have to wear this, I’m going to get some shuteye.” He reclined his seat back as she revved the engine.

He could tell they were headed through the curves of the pass, but soon sleep took over. He lost track of time in his slumber.

The closing of the driver’s door startled him awake. She soon opened the door on his side of the car.

“Give me your hand, but don’t take off the mask just yet.”

He took in a deep breath. The air was cleaner here, fresher. She slipped her hand into his.

“Come this way.” She navigated him through a small maze of steps and turns.

He heard the snicker and an “awww” of a couple as they walked past. He heard her chuckle a bit, then the click of a door lock.

She led him through the door. “Now, give me a moment; don’t move.” She stepped away a moment.

He thought to peek and lifted his hand to his face.

“Unh-uh. Don’t spoil it!” She commanded.

He lowered his hand. “I had an itch!” He covered for himself.

She laughed and paused a few more moments. “Okay, go ahead.”

He lifted his veil and looked around. She stood in front of him with a grin. A plush sofa and chair sat in front of him. He knew he was in a hotel, but where?

He took a few steps into the adjoining room. A king bed awaited them. He turned around and stepped back into the little living room. “Where are we?”

She tilted her head towards sliding doors. A small balcony revealed what awaited outside.

He pulled the curtain back and took a look. Sun was setting, and it was quiet outside. He turned to her with a smile, then realized she had his trunks in her hand.

“Wanna go for a dip?”

writing

Howling Winds

A long night slowly crept by. Forced my focus away from the news. We knew what was coming, so I needed to alleviate anxiety.

Thankful to have power, so I sat and stitched. A blue and white quilt I decided to make. I pursed my lips and lost myself to the dancing needle, guiding it along the seams.

Mother kept obsessing on the storm; now I know where I get it from. I look up and smile, reassure her, then focus back on sewing. She doesn’t understand why I’m not absorbed like her, but I know I’m better off.

Finally I break from sewing to rest my eyes. The weather and news played on with warnings and updates. The winds picked up and then the final flicker. No more electricity.

Lit a candle and recline on the couch; too scared to sleep so close to the windows in our room. Listening to the whistle and howls was nerve wracking. Sleep came in fits and starts.

The morning broke; cool air and drizzles floated by. Now the winds were calm and I could finally get some real sleep.

writing

Ian

Dark skies greeted the day. Easy to see, something was amiss. The lake was eerily calm despite the gray clouds. Birds darted about, making final preparations.

Rains fell throughout the morn, but passed as quickly as it came. The winds picked up as the day wore on, slowly passing by.

As the daylight faded, the sounds of torrential downpours struck the double-paned window. Whistles and howls slipped through cracks as puddles of water gulped up the rains.

A whooshing sound flew across the lake as boards pulled up from the aging dock. Thuds echoed through the house as wood met block.

Groans and creaks, pings, and snaps grew as the darkness of night took over. The noises seemed to drown out everything else. Even conversations and television gave way.

A loud crash startled. One of the oak trees finally crumpled under the winds and surrendered a large branch. As it fell off the roof, scraping noises rattled the bedroom and out nerves.

While the house stood its ground, the noises continued as debris flew. Another branch smacked the window, causing the blinds to shake and sway.

Hours more to go. Sleep will not be sound, if any can even be had. Morning we will see what will be found.

writing

Mountain Sunset

Take me on a hike to a high point,

Let’s set up camp just for us.

Start a little fire and eat a little bite,

Wrap up with each other close and tight.

Watch the sun drift down below the peaks.

Laugh at silly ghost stories and awful jokes,

and play with each other’s chilly hands.

Watch the moon and stars float above

Until our eyes grow heavy and tired.

Then let’s drift off to sweet slumber,

Entangled in each other’s limbs.

Then let us wake to the sweet song of a bird,

And to a pink and blue sky as the sun bids us good morn’.

writing

What It Is

Hands and fingers trembling,

Fingertips dull from the cold.

Pallor skin shows tired eyes,

Sleepless nights have come back again.

I push the thoughts of you aside,

Happy to be distant friends,

I tell myself this is what must be.

They need you, and he needs me.

Has it always been the cursed way?

A new day, morning comes once again,

Distractions, good times, smiles and work

Busy my mind and my thoughts.

You’re still there, in my heart,

You’re still there, in my mind,

And when you text, I feel a moment of glee.

Grateful that sometimes you still think of me.

writing

Seeking Light

Darkness overshadows the light;

Another night settles in.

An eerie quiet fills the air,

As birds and crickets fall silenced.

No wind flutters the leaves,

The world drifts to nothingness.

Hearts slowly beat while hopes dim.

Grayness fills once vibrant eyes,

Hair grows thin and bones turn brittle.

Soon everything may turn to ash,

If there is no saving grace.

Will the breezes blow once more,

And the sun bring its light,

Will the wilderness find its voice,

And our hearts know love once more?

writing

Storm’s A’Comin’

Oppressive heat took over the once air conditioned room. A lone window opened to the world outside revealed what was sure to come. No cooling breeze to lift spirits; instead breaths were full of sighs. Nothing would be easy as limbs are heavy with sweat.

Moving the large and small pots into the already crowded garage proved tough. So much of this stuff needs to go, but not this week. Storm’s a’comin’ and that takes priority.

Battery backups and chargers plugged in, filling up the power. Water stockpiled along with non-perishable foods. This time, they took it a little more serious. The last one left them in the dark for a week.

Plans put in place; their home would be the family home base. Time to set up the bed in her office to host nephew and kitty. The other room ready for mom.

A spare blow up mattress available too, should anyone else need. Now we watch and wait. Hopefully it keeps moving West. Time will tell. Storm’s a’comin’.

writing

Piecing Together

Her tired fingers pinched and squeezed,

Poked and clasped through the sandwich of cloth.

Her eyes squinted, looking through the years of age,

She knew much longer she wouldn’t be able to do more.

But, it filled her quiet days since he’d passed away.

Pieces of cloth cut from old house dresses,

Children’s and grandchildren’s clothes too.

Her daughter-in-law would be along soon,

Whisking her away to the fabric store in town.

The quilting frame was already set with today’s project.

Brightly colored fabrics already pieced,

Batting sandwiched in the middle.

This one is for the next bride in the family;

Each young lady would eventually get one.

The gossip starts as they gather around,

What happened at church, who is in to visit,

And the stories carried on and on

While each stitch was delivered with love.

Soon the quilt would be ready for binding,

While another one waited in the wings.

Such were the days of the quilting bees.