October 2023 Collection
Knitting Needles
The cold wood of the rocking chair met her with an unyielding embrace.
She slumped into it, adjusting frail wings to find comfort. Two pine needles
were nearby with the start of a scarf tangled in them. Drying damp eyes on her
arm, she grabbed them and straightened the scarf out. How long had this been
sitting? The threads twisted in her figures as she held a needle in each hand.
Knit, purl, knit; the motions came as if she never stopped. Purl,
knit, purl. She kicked the floor and set the chair to rocking. Knit, purl,
knit. Tension eased away one stitch at a time. Tomorrow would be different,
maybe it would be better.
Dianthus
Thin green leaves stretch
From long green stems;
Unassuming
as a tuft of grass
Among golden mulch.
But then flowers
bloom.
Dressed in pink gowns,
They peek
through leaves
And beckon pollinators close
With sways
of white petticoats.
When Mechs Fell I
The streets shook with the gait of 40 tons of metal. Vehicles blared
horns and alarms in panic. Buildings shook and cracked with each tremor. Hide
or be trampled. Leave or die. Most of us left. There wouldn’t have been much
left to die for anyway.
When Mechs Fell II
Dust and ash rolled through the city. Tremors shook the streets, sending
cracks and splits racing through well-traveled roads. Monstrous towers of
steel and gunpowder lurched onward. Buildings fell. Aircraft exploded around
them. The Inner Sphere had come for them, and they wouldn't be leaving anytime
soon.
Tired Workers
Heavy eyes.
A long drive behind.
Eight hours
before
the long drive ahead.
Dull throbs tell how long each hour will
be.
Interruptions
Leaves rustle against a calm wind;
Birds and insects chatter away.
The rumble of an engine passes:
demanding in its
roar.
A moment of silence passes
under
the rustle of leaves:
then chatter resumes.
Nature
moves on.
After War
Years of fighting…done. Lasers and missiles. Screams and shouts. Finally
quiet. The engine - now cold; the cockpit - ejected. What once was shiny and
pristine, now lay rusted and dented.
That which could still
function had long been salvaged, mosses and trees now filled their place. In
place of the humans that had once scurried about, there were now other animals
that grazed quietly nearby, finding shelter, not terror, in the abandoned war
machine.
Land of the Flawed
There was once a land that was a home of the Brave and of the Strong.
Those living there were told that they were Free; that they had boundless
opportunities. The Free were grateful and thought the land perfect, but each
generation that went by found new flaws. They fought for change. Sometimes
they won; a few paces here for equality, a few paces there for justice.
But the land didn’t want to change. Instead, the land
learned that if it couldn’t hide its flaws, it could make the Free forget how
to fight.