(Photo: Na’ama Yehuda)
The sun shone
As spring gently yet
Resolutely strode
On.
The park evolved into
A luminous
Expanse
Of green
Shoots
And pink petals
Unfold.
A respite
From the winter’s
Cold.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Luminous in 30 words.
(Photo by Elijah Hiett on Unsplash)
The world was full of golden fuzz.
The sun shone on the meadow.
She let herself soar, up and up.
Her voice free to glide on from high to mellow.
“What is that god-awful noise?”
Aunt Edna woke, her voice a sonorous bellow.
“A yodel,” the child said.
“A bird in my throat sings the dandelions yellow.”
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Yodel in 57 words
“Can you see them?” Lizzie swayed with anticipation. The waiting has been endless. Endless. Endless.
There was no response.
“Blue!?” she prompted.
“Hold your horses,” Lily soothed, always one to keep the peace. “He takes time to formulate and produce.”
Lizzie knew that, and that it wasn’t proper to press others to do what they physically could not. She tipped her head in guilty acknowledgement.
Still, she wished someone else was standing sentry. Not that Blue had any say. They were each placed where they were placed, and had to make the most of it. Slow as time, Blue would have to do.
And yet, it was so hard to wait.
Especially when she was finally dressed in all her finery and wanted to show it off before any got wilted.
“Car,” Blue said.
Finally! Lizzie wriggled.
“Such Impatiens,” Petunia rustled. “No finesse. All is hurry hurry hurry with them.”
For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
The dreary times were soon to pass.
No matter that her breath still steamed both outdoors and inside the drafty house. No matter that her red fingers barely bent with swelling and that the chilblains on her toes still burned and ached and itched. No matter that she took so long to warm come night that she almost despaired of sleeping.
The dreary times were soon to pass.
She knew.
True, it was still frosty.
But the cold was dying.
She knew, because the ice formed only on the very edges of her washbasin and because what frost adorned the ground in the morning would transmute into miniature mirrors of dew by the time the sun rose higher in the sky.
And because she saw the primrose.
Blooming.
Out there.
In audacious glee.
If the tiny flowers could endure the remnants of frigidity, so could she.
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
(Photo: Crispina Kemp)
A steady stream of arms laden with crinkly cellophane bundles traipsed through the narrow entrance corridor, up the stairs, around the bend, and past the out-of-order elevator.
The smells of urine, rust, and peeling paint receded. Giving way to vases, boxes, baskets, floral foams, and rubber bands.
There were roses. Lush buds with intrepid blooms unfurling their blushing petals amidst a proliferation of snowy Baby’s Breath.
There were carnations in white, fuchsia, orange, and a teal-blue hue that nature did not make but lent a Caribbean Sea vibe to the bouquet.
Daffodils and tulips, proud atop their stems, even if their own growth did not commence in frosted ground but in the cushy climate of the nursery.
And Gerbera daisies in a smiling rainbow of colors resting atop greens.
The room brimmed with the scent of flowers.
If she could not wait for spring, they would bring spring to her.
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
Photo: Inbar Asif
He lay himself
Bare
On the ground.
Stripped into
A fraction of his
Former self, yet
In his memory
A giant
Still,
And let the blanket of
Red
Caress him
Through to the
Other side of life,
And into the
Eternal
Sleep.
For the dVerse poetry challenge: red
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Too soon the colors
Blazing on the trees
And paths
And drains
And roofs of cars
Would calm,
And ground
And street
And city parks
Will match the clouds in
Moody monochrome.
For the Lens-Artists challenge: Monochrome
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Up close
The purple pinks into the blue
And makes the hues
Shine through.
Up close
You can forget yourself
As edges curl
And bloom unfurls
In you.
Photo: Amitai Asif
It cracks the rock and pushes forth
To skies that swirl in
Matching froth.
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Flower
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Their small heads
Rise proud
In mid-trail.
Delicate and fierce
They stretch their
Full miniature scale.
The risk they take
Of being
Stepped on,
Dwarfed by delicious
Access
To sun.
For the Lens-Artist Weekly Photo Challenge: Delicate
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