Photo: Harpal Singh via Unsplash
They rode long through the dark
After closing the park
Wooden horses a-spiral in endless embark.
For the Three Line Tales Challenge
The Long Ride
Life and love
Tomorrow’s Memory
Photo: Adam Ickes
“They do not remember who they are.”
The old man’s voice was somber without judgment. A skill born of patience shaped by the combined weights of history and time.
“It is why I brought them here.”
The elder regarded his visitor. His dark eyes pools of wisdom deeper than the lines upon his skin.
A silence stretched.
“They will not find it in this place,” Sorrowful Skies said finally.
Disappointment filled the woman’s face.
“They will sleep in the lodge tonight,” he added. “Tomorrow, they will walk like their ancestors. In bare feet on breathing land. Then they will remember.”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
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A House’s Prayer
Photo: Philip Coons
Empty window
Recalls
Days of voice,
Filled up halls.
Rocking chair
Holds the space
For creaky floors
Under pace.
Tattered curtains
Still long
For a hand
To belong.
The old house
Holds its breath.
When time spins
Back again,
They will come back.
Amen.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Anticipation
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No Wonky Donkey
Photo: Inbar Asif
This dung pie?
Don’t you try.
Ownership
He’ll deny.
He lives here
That is true,
But the poop
Ain’t his do.
He’s a stubborn
Old donkey,
And he’ll blame it
On Wonky.
For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Farm animals
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What Matters Most
Photo: Yisca Freeman
What matters most
Are those we wrap
In loving arms
To keep from harm.
What matters most
Are those who hold
All future steps
Yet to unfold.
For Nancy Merrill’s Photo a week challenge
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Leaving Leaves
Photo: Karen Forte
In flaming end to
Warmth’s reprieve,
Cold days burnish
Red
Onto leaves.
A final curtain call
To leave.
For Calm Kate’s Friday Foto Fun Challenge: Leaves
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Carved Time
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Long years had
Carved the stone
And cleaved to blue
The sky,
Yet puffy clouds
Still gawk as they
Meander
Idly by.
For the December Squares Challenge
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Perfect View
Photo: Markus Spiske on Pexels.com
“There!” Angelo pointed.
“There what?” Payton panted
“There if you bother to lift your head.”
Payton scowled but was more occupied with getting oxygen into his lungs than wasting it on responses. He was sure that Angelo-The-Braggadocio had set the punishing pace deliberately to get him gasping. Not everyone climbed mountains for recreation!
The stitch in his side finally subsided enough to allow him to remove his fists from his thighs and straighten to take in the “amazing vista” Angelo had promised.
Dense fog. Vague tree tops. Milky air.
“There goes nothing,” Payton grouched.
Angelo chuckled and the saturated air softened the sound into something almost vulnerable.
Payton glanced at his friend. Glanced again. Was the wet on Angelo’s cheeks mist or liquid feelings?
“It is the perfect view,” Angelo murmured, his oft guarded face as open as a child’s. “To be inside Big Sky is to revisit Heaven.”
For What Pegman Saw: Big Sky Montana
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It is Time
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
It is time to make time
For the truth
Of what happened.
It is time to make space
For what some wished
Not be known.
It is time to take heed
Of the lengths went
To smother
The misdeeds and bad choices
So the fake
Will take hold.
It is time to revisit
Civic duty and justice
And refuse to permit
Free reign for hate,
Greed and lies.
It is time to return
To the truth.
For in fact it has long been
Well way past
The time.
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Boulder Holder
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Wrapping tentative fingers
That become tangled vines
Jungle trees tell the boulder:
“You’re my rock, you are mine.”
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge
Na'ama Yehuda 
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