The light on blue-gray water
Waves a landing strip
To bless an incoming flight.
“So nice of them to give us ice-cream!” Sheri grinned. It was her favorite brand, too. On a plane! How fun!
“Even people on death row get a last meal.”
She elbowed him. Her friends said Robert was a party-popper. A fuddy-duddy, spoil sport, malcontent. Sometimes she wondered if they were right. Her husband did have a way of deflating. She felt bad for him. Life must be so gray, to experience life his way.
“Well, I’m going to enjoy mine,” she announced, infusing extra-cheer into her voice. “If it’s my last course, I’ll be halfway up to heaven already.”
(Note: Thank you, Rochelle for using my potentially boring 16 hour direct flight photo from JFK to Hong-Kong from the summer before last … While this is not an ad, the ice-cream sure was a comfort … 🙂 )
“We’ll never all fit,” Sultana groaned.
“Lots of room!” the driver boomed encouragement even as he tightened screws underneath the van.
“C’mon!” Mariam elbowed past her cousin and climbed onto the vehicle, parcels and a flapping hen in hand. “Next one isn’t till dawn.”
Sultana looked around as if better conveyance would miraculously manifest. None did. She sighed, grabbed her packages and hoisted the bleating kid under an arm. She squeezed aboard, the last one on, with barely room enough to sit down.
The door slammed. The goat peed, soaking her lap.
It’ll be a long ride to Jaddati’s farm.
The gray marble
With leisured rich
The carved squares
And the luxuriating
Note: The photo was taken at Wat Pho, The Temple of the Reclining Buddha, in Bangkok, Thailand. The pebbled bits represent a small part of the ‘hair’ of the massive Buddha statue. The textures and contrasts of the surfaces were what caught my eye and so the angle of the photo is deliberately ambiguous.
As they fly
Loops of sky
To hoot and cry,
They spend the day
To Earth defy
As some shake heads
Oh my, oh my
And wonder why…
Note: These photos are from Canada’s “Wonderland” amusement park in Vaughn, where my family spent a day this past July, high flying and earth-defying while I mostly did the photo-taking and oh-my-why’ing. … 😉 (In the photo above, they are in the three short horizontal lines in free fall on the vertical line, a moment before being turned upside down and sideways and goodness knows what else). It was a delightful day all around (pun?) till I got on one kiddie ride in the afternoon … Now, if you’re into these contraptions, that place is an all out-human-milkshake inventive park, just be warned and don’t be fooled by the miniature height requirements: they start them early and loop-di-doop-whoop-loop even those rides meant for preschoolers. …
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Tourism
Next in line
Ere the last leg
And loved ones
They’d come to Gros Morne every summer. On “Dad Week.” Camp in a tent that always leaked but Dad wouldn’t replace, every patch and glued seam a map of reminiscing. They’d spend days on the meadows, walk the volcanic beach, go down to Old Man’s Cove.
Sal loved all of it. Even the chill and wet and constant hunger (for there was always more Dad aspired to catch than what he’d actually manage to). Sal never complained. He’d give up everything to breathe the ocean and make up stories about pirates in the coves. He’d even downplay the painful rash and sneezing (they never did find which wild-flower he was allergic to, and he didn’t want to, afraid Mom would say he couldn’t go).
Erosion closed his favorite trail, but not his memories.
He gazed at the ocean and wondered if Dad, whose mind was fading, still had his.
Soon reaching top speed
To the lock
At the end of
But the adversity
Of its birth.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Lock
I glanced across the chasm. For someone born and raised in the Alps amidst sharp elevations, I was woefully unequipped. Sometimes I wondered what Karma I’d accumulated to explain it.
“You are protected, Dania.”
I looked up desperately at my mother, who wore an encouraging smile and already had one foot on the swaying bridge and a hand held out to assist me. Even as a baby I’d been known to tremble at the sight of any height, yet Mother’s optimism never wavered that one day her offspring would overcome what to her was an incomprehensible fear. She adored climbing.
Why she took me to Bhutan.
“This bridge is blessed,” my mother tried. “You’ll come to no harm.”
“I cannot,” I whispered, my legs shaking. Each prayer flag a flutter to match mine, the river vertiginous miles below. “No prayer will suffice. My very soul knows it’ll die.”
A community for writers to learn, grow, and connect.
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Alternative haven for the Daily Post's mourners!
never judge a girl by her weight
original fiction, rhyme and photography
Taotalk is a forum for the discussion of both the academic and pragmatic aspects of dao and Daoism, with participants expressing themselves on Daoist writings and pragmatics from their unique perspectives. It serves as a community for Daoists, and those interested in Daoism, to gather and talk dao.
A photographer's view of the world - words and images to inspire your travels and your dreams
Life in progress
Straight up with a twist– Because life is too short to be subtle!
A man with dyslexia writing about this and that and everything else!
Better Living Through Beauty, Wisdom and Whimsey
Life in a flash - a weekly writing blog
Aroused by Arête
Or….Identifying The Harmless Unhinged Among Us.
Thoughts on life, writing, creativity and magic
with John W. Howell