Forgiveness is the food of love
That patience hopes to bring.
We eat while daily dreaming of
How peace would let us sing.
Text: Linked to Debbie Roth’s Forgiving Fridays.
Photos: “Light on Hickory Leaf”, above, and “Fence and Birdhouse”, below, linked to K’lee and Dale’s Cosmic Photo Challenge with the theme “The Food of Love”. Taken near Stoney Run County Park in Hebron, Indiana.
My intuition —
Got it wrong — but then,
“…I’m sorry…”.
I trust it once again.
Text: Linked to dVerse Meeting the Bar. Bjorn is hosting with the theme of punctuation in particular em-dashes and ellipses. I tried to use both above.
Photos: “Corn and Clouds”, above, and “Storm Clouds Over Cemetery”, below. Taken near Rensselaer, Indiana, prior to a meeting yesterday of the Prairie Writers Guild.
He used the floor of the cabin’s open porch as a chair dangling his legs. The chickens were safe. The dog was safe.
He figured if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. No fairies. No unicorns. The trees weren’t watching. The sun didn’t care. He was safe.
Then he saw her walk up his long path. She was watching him for some time and decided to make her move. She needed a place to stay. After they spoke his understanding of safety expanded to include her.
Now they both sat on the porch. He promised to make chairs.
Text: Linked to Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch 99-word Flash Fiction Challenge. The theme is a chair on a porch. Come join us writing flash fiction.
News: Last Wednesday the Prairie Writers Guild held a dinner in Rensselaer, Indiana, celebrating the publication of the fourteenth volume of their series From the Edge of the Prairie. Some of my haibun, which appeared previously on this blog, are in that volume. They print the anthology in Rensselaer. Although I have been a member for only the past year I have known some of the people in the guild for decades having grown up in northwest Indiana.
The first time I drove these fast, multi-lane interstate highways connecting Chicago and northern Indiana I was alone and I thought I was going to die or get my butt kicked since I wasn’t supposed to be on them. I was driving a cheap, used car I bought from a classmate without asking my father’s advice because I didn’t have a brain in my head. A week later, after the car and I survived I-94, that car suddenly lost oil and brought me, safely, to its final stop on a country road. Driving back to my childhood town these memories take advantage of the opportunity to hold my attention. My sister is still there with her family. There is also my former teacher. His children, who have children now, I remember as children whom I baby sat while their youngest sibling was being born. My parents are both there, side by side, but where they really are, and perhaps who they really are, I will find out in the not too distant future. One by one, they joined my youngest brother whose misfortune with automobiles was worse than mine. I can still see my father opening the door for me as we gathered that day. How he cried! I hear Omar Alfanno’s “Un Hombre de Verdad” playing from my phone over the car’s speakers. My heart tells my mind that enough is enough and they give me a chance to listen. I touch repeat.
APRIL’S EYES HAVE CLEARED
EARTH WAITS WARM AND PATIENTLY
BLOOMS SMILE EVERYWHERE
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Toni with the prompt to write a haibun about singing to a song while driving.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 