Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Roofed in green
Curves of foliage
They stand chiseled
And skilled,
Each a niche
Dedicated
To the men of
The guild.
For the Lens-Artist Challenge: curves
Niche by Niche
History
Floored
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Not a rug
But a floor
You’ll be floored
To adore
As you find
Even more
To marvel
Galore.
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Floor
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Not Yet History
Photo: Tomasz Mikolajczyk on Pexels
“Are these from olden times?” the boy’s eyes were round with wonder.
“Not so olden,” his mother sighed. “We have some in our bomb-shelter. Everyone was fitted with a gas mask during the Gulf War. We had to carry it everywhere. Even preschoolers like you.”
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Mask in 45 words
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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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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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Around The Bend
Photo: Jan Genge via Upsplash
They ran around the metal that machines had bent
And right across the bend of time
Into handmade medieval.
For Three Line Tales
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A Child’s Cheer
Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor
As chilly nights
Churn cold winds
And unclothed trees
Hold branches
In a yearn
To huddle near,
Cherish the fleeting
Flowing moments
Of memory’s chalices
Filling with cheer,
As a child
Chants a prayer
And gently lights
History’s challenge
To despair
Lack
And fear.
For the dVerse Quadrille Monday challenge: Cheer
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The Chief’s Command
Photo: Ofir Asif
“They are not welcome here,” the Chief decreed.
His eyes regarded the troop that was his to protect. The land was plentiful, but his soul recalled the stories of Times of Famine, when many had been reduced to skin and bone and many more had died. Legend had it that The Others had brought it on, had taken more than was their share, and angered rain from falling, seeds from growing.
He sensed Bannu’s discontent. Chiefs didn’t have to grant permission for anyone’s opinion. Life showed him, however, that good Chiefs balanced silencing with persuading.
“Bannu?” he grunted.
“What if they return with more of their kind?” The youngster’s sparse ruff bristled apprehension.
The Chief nodded. Foresight was rare. The youth had potential. It also made him someone to watch out for.
“If they challenge us,” the Chief bared teeth and growled an answer and a warning. “We fight.”
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Cold Edge
Photo: Amitai Asif
At the fringe of the habitable
Where the ice kisses sky,
And the black rock remembers
Lava’s wrath, ashes’ sigh,
The cold wraps hands around hearts
To reach deep and warmth pry.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Fringe (34 words)
Na'ama Yehuda 
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