Another writing project that I’ve taken on in my ongoing effort to increase my writing time and hopefully expand my writing mind.
Writing Our Way Home involves writing “small stones”, or simple descriptive phrases or paragraphs on a regular basis. It is coordinated by the same folks who did the River of Stones project I was involved with this past January. I don’t expect to write new entries daily, but I hope to do so relatively regularly.
November 27, 2011
Long red rays of sunlight
finger combing tree tops
November 28, 2011:
This little thing has been bugging me all night. It is now first thing in the morning and I have made revisions in my head as I laid awake. I have to get them down before it all is lost during the day.
Winter Dusk
Evening sunlight
finger combed by bare treetops
into glowing shafts of orange
neatly covering the landscape
Or, another variation…..(I told you this was keeping me awake during the night!)
Bare treetops
finger comb the evening sky
into glowing shafts of sunlight
settling over the landscape
I can’t decide which I prefer, but this will drive me crazy for a while.
December 1.2011:
Stiff brown tips of grass
poke through a sea of white
standing tall as snow encircles
the rising tide of winter
December 4, 2011:
Writing
Blue light glows from rectangular box, a chair squeaks
fingertips tap a halting rhythm with lettered squares,
eyes follow a blinking line across the screen
grunt of frustration, sigh of satisfaction
January 1.2012:
The universe continues
The stars oblivious
The earth turns, uncaring
Animals live and die unknowing
Only a miniscule human poplulation
Marks a random day
Chosen by them
As a fresh beginning
counting each time their
speck of dust circles the
warmth and light of its
sun
Happy New Year
January 5, 2012:
The first day on the job, a storeroom is transformed into cozy office space; in my mind I recall the day in two minute intervals seeing the progress step by step.
June 26, 2012:
Rows of fresh cut grass follow behind the whining of the lawnmower, up and down the length of the neighbor’s yard.
A whining buzz warns of the prick of a bite, slap of hand to skin. Mosquito’s last meal.
I can see the second one more clearly.
By: Nance on November 29, 2011
at 9:42 pm
Thanks- I think I like that one better, too.
By: chlost on December 3, 2011
at 12:48 pm
I love the idea of the rising tide of winter! So interesting.
By: Rose on January 5, 2012
at 8:41 pm