The Tree

the tree amitaiasif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

“I will wait by the tree,”

She had said.

“At the fork where

The road

Meets the lush, green

Horizon.”

Wait she did,

Day again and again

And a month, and another.

Wait until they had come

Trudging home

From the war,

Wearing smiles, but

Carrying the weight

Of their sorrows

Around them.

 

 

 

For Becca Givens’ Sunday Trees

 

Radium Springs Roulette

radium springs ga casino pc

 

“Well then,” Mom exclaimed.

She was going over Poppa’s papers while I boxed seemingly endless books.

I looked up. There was an album in her lap, black pages empty but for an old postcard.

“He denied it when I’d said he’d taken me there,” Mom whispered. “I was young and believed him, but my heart knew all the same.”

I shook my head. Poppa was as straight-laced as they came.

“He gambled,” she explained. “A salesman meant frequent traveling. He used it to hide visits to casinos.”

She fingered the card. “Radium Springs Casino. I knew I hadn’t dreamed this place. The deep blue water wove tightly with the wheel.”

I gazed at the memento. At my mom.

“I was not-yet-four,” she sighed. “Thomas was just born and Dad took me to ‘work’ so Mom could rest. He played the roulette. … Perhaps his keeping of the card was another gamble.”

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Radium Springs, GA

 

Fates and Faiths

the old city osnathalperinbarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

In the depths of the city

Where new rubs shoulders

With old,

Uncounted passes of prayers

And woven statements

Enfold,

Fates and faiths of what’s been

And may yet find

Better ways

To be told.

 

 

For Wits-End Weekend Photo Challenge: repeating patterns

 

Fatefully Furrowed

muddy tracks chagit moriahgibor

Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor

 

“What did this?”

Calvin gulped.

“What?!” Eric insisted. “A jeep?”

“Not a car.”

“What then?”

“We better turn back.”

Eric squinted at the muddy furrows.

“Nothing you want to meet in the dark,” Calvin shuddered and revved the motorcycle’s engine.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Furrowed in 40 words

 

The Vanishing Point

VanishingPoint ofirasif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

 

At the vanishing point

They have passed

To be gassed,

Leaving us

To a world

That forever now must,

Not forget

How the place

Of no return

Has been crossed,

And we none are

The same

For hate’s shadow’s

Been cast.

In the name of those

Vanished

Who shall not be forgot,

We can vow to hold hope,

And let compassion

Outlast.

 

 

 

For Nancy Merrill’s A Photo a Week Challenge: Vanishing Point

 

Beyond Scale

beyond scale naamayehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

There’s little possible

Perspective

For how to scale

The size of feet

That for so many

Will not fit

In anyone’s shoes

Ever

Not before

Not since.

 

Trivia note: The photo above is a detail of the Reclining Buddha in Wat Pho Temple in Bangkok, Thailand (also known as “Temple of the Reclining Buddha” or Wat Phra Chetuphon). The giant Buddha measures 46 meters (over 150 feet) long, 15 meters (almost 50 feet) high, and is covered in gold leaf. The soles of the feet (depicted in the photo above) and the eyes are intricately carved with mother of pearl. The soles of the feet inscribe the 108 holy characteristics of the true Buddha, in both Chinese and Indian styles. The 20 acres of the temple complex also contains over a 1000 Buddha images, many tracing back centuries.

 

For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Unusual perspective

 

The Gift

 

They didn’t mean to.

They had to think fast.

“What in God’s married name is that?!”

Gary glanced at Gloria. Mom only used the expression when the you-know-what was about to hit the fan.

“I told you this was stupid,” Gloria hissed as they ran to the door. “It only made it look worse!”

Gary shot her a “shut-up-and-let-me-handle-it” look.

“Hi Mom,” he announced and swung the door open so that (hopefully) only the taped side was visible. “Do you like it? It’s a Christmas tree duct tape art. To remind you of the holidays!”

 

 

For Rochelle’s FridayFictioneers

 

It’s A Breeze

nyc reservoir 2 NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Ripples speed

With the breeze

Whipping small waves

With ease

On the surface

Of these

Waters guarded

By trees.

 

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Breeze

 

Blue thoughts on Yellow

mirrored karenforte

Photo: Karen Forte

 

In middle school the uniforms

Were yellow tops and blue skirts

For the girls,

Yellow tops and blue slacks

For the boys.

 

The hue of yellow

In the official

Button downs,

Was a pale shade that made

Even the ruddy

Cheeks of children

Wash out

In the sun.

 

I used to think perhaps

This was the only color

Merchants had on overstock

When the school had first opened:

A fabric rescued

After years of fade brought on

By being forgotten

By everyone.

 

Oh, it was a decent enough school,

With friends I have kept

In touch with since the

Beginning of Sixth Grade.

It was the yellow hue

That had me blue.

 

Decades passed

And while

The beauty and the range

Of it in nature

Does indeed move me to tears,

I’m yet to own

A yellow garment

Even after

All these years.

 

 

 

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Blue and Yellow