A Fleeting Equilibrium

balancing rock formation

Photo: Tina Nord on Pexels.com

 

She held her breath and waited for the instant

In time

Where Earth’s equator passed through

The center of the sun.

Imperfectly balanced

As it was

By arcs and tilt and latitudes,

She cared not about

The argument that it could never be

In ideal form,

Or that the exact timing

Varied

With convictions

And perceptions of the mind.

She paused nonetheless,

Determined

To witness the fleeting equilibrium

Of light and dark,

And the shift of balance

That it could,

perhaps today, allow.

 

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Equinox in 83 words

 

Soul Searching

NewZealand InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Would you sell your soul

To sorrow?

Would you reap

Hate’s awful gain?

Would you let go of

Tomorrow

So false power

Rise again?

 

Will your heart see

All humanity?

What will you allow,

Sustain?

Will your soles

Feed earth

Or hollow

Out it’s wealth

To drain?

 

Will you leave

Your soul abandoned?

Will you let your spirit

Die?

Or will you hold on

To the morrow

In a world

For you

And I?

 

 

For the SoCS prompt: Soul/sole

 

 

At The Gate

At the gate NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

For the gate from the old

Must stand guard

Not by sword

But to hold

Off the passage of years

So the lessons of past

May find ways to

Be cast.

 

 

For Cee’s Black &White Photo Challenge: Fences and Gates

 

Not For Sale

three line tales, week 163: a special deal

Photo: Artem Bali via Unsplash

 

I will not be for sale. Not today. Not tomorrow.

Limit not my conditions. Offer no terms for me.

There’s no deal worth my special. Shelves or fly off – I’m free.

 

 

For Three Line Tales

 

Out Played

Photo prompt: © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

 

“It’s an effing eyesore.”

“I don’t care.”

Martin balled his fists but Susan just gazed at him.

She said nothing but he knew: Raise a finger on me and off to jail you go. The judge was clear: Anger-Management or prison. Martin took the former but could swear Susan’s infuriating behavior intended to get him the latter.

He inhaled slowly before turning away. “When Sanitation fines us,” he growled, “it’s all yours to pay.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Though I think they won’t.”

He glared. “Why? Got connections?”

“Nope,” she patted the rotting piano. “I’ve registered it as street art.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Five Years Ago

Carol

Carol Hornig: Much loved, deeply missed

 

Five years ago today

You passed on

Into effervescent light,

Boundless love,

And joyful belly laughs.

 

It is no wonder, for

You have lived light, even

Through deep pain.

You have breathed

Unconditional

Love

And nourished all you’d met

Along your path.

You have gifted us all with your

Laughter,

Your glorious heart.

 

You are now

One

With it all,

In the place your soul

Must have always known

As home.

 

 

A New Dawn

pink sunrise KarenForte

Photo: Karen Forte

 

“…There’s a special beauty to the world resuming definition. I always loved pre-dawn and the gradual emergence of the world from under wraps of darkness. A hesitant light followed by a glorious brush of sunrise obliterating the black with oranges and yellows so bright you must look away and blink, only to find morning had arrived.

I walked faster now that I could see more of the ground in front of me. Brambles and tangled roots were easier to avoid and step over when I didn’t need to test every step.

Sunrise in the forest felt gentler than the ones I’d sat through on my porch. Not so much a blinding line of light across the sky as it was a filtering of color working its way from the canopies above and down the foliage, branches, trunks and finally the ground. Tired and worried, I still found myself mesmerized by the wonder of it all. Goosebumps covered my arms not only from the morning chill but also from something that felt almost like a memory: pink sky chasing blue across the ceiling of the world, the dazzled dance of dust along the shafts of molten, golden light. It felt familiar. Maybe I had seen a forest-sunrise during my own life’s dawn. …”

(Excerpt from “Outlawed Hope”)

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Sunrise

 

Neck Of The Not So Woods

Neck of the Hood NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

The birds spiral

‘Round the spire

And the bells peal

Half and whole,

As the sky paints blue

Horizons

In a neighborhood

For all.

 

 

For the Lens-Artist Challenge: Around the neighborhood

 

 

When The Ice Breaks

greenland icebergs-933003_1920

Photo: Barni1 by Pixabay

 

He said he’ll be home when the ice breaks.

And every day she waited, one baby tugging at her skirts and another growing restless under her heart, and tried to not look at the field of crosses planted right outside her window. Reminders of the many who the frigid sea or dark winters or the loneliness of this place at end of the world had claimed.

Some days she hated Greenland. The endless nights. The gnawing cold. The monotony of the same few faces and the bickering that eventually picked open old scabs and gauged new hurts for the next arctic dark to revisit.

Other times she couldn’t fathom living any other place. Summer’s endless light. The sparkle on the water. Pups, babies, and not-so-babies frolicking. The wide spaces full of breath and warmth that thawed old sorrows into joy. It felt like coming home.

Will he?

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Greenland

 

Saving Daylight

Saving daylight2 NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

Cherish every moment

Left

Of light as

Suns will set.

Hold on to the

Deep rewards

Of daylight breathed

Through soul,

And saved.

 

For Terri’s Sunday Stills Challenge: Daylight Hours