Photo: Inbar Asif
Sky and clouds
Take a swim
As day fills
To the brim,
And the light
Lets you know:
As above
So below.
For the Sunday Stills challenge: Reflect
Reflecting On Reflection
Photo prompt
Sailed Horizon
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
I will paddle into sunlight
Where the ocean
Kisses sky,
Where the sailboats’
Neat triangles
Patch the blue
With bits of pie.
For Nancy Merrill’s Photo A Week Challenge
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The Fence
Photo: © Russell Gayer
“We don’t go There,” Mama always warned. “Ever.”
“There” was beyond the fence. Where the embankment locked in perpetual shadows and where the yellow cliffs rose shining in the sun and where the scary things lived and mortal danger was certain to find you.
As a child I never questioned the relative flimsiness of the wire fence and how it possibly prevented such pervasive awfulness from invading the compound.
It wasn’t until much later that it occurred to me to wonder whether both the fence and its electric bite were there to keep us in.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
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Be Like Cabbage
Photo: Amitai Asif
“Be like a flower,” she said,
Wrinkles creasing like sun
‘Round her eyes.
“Be like cabbage, too!”
And she laughed
At my confusion and
Touched a calloused hand
To my cheek
For the umpteenth loving time.
“Bloom alone does not fill stomachs,”
She explained
And the years without
Flickered sad behind her smile
But did not interfere.
“Cabbage blooms as pretty as any,
Yet unlike most who wilt
At summer’s end,
It will hold goodness at the ready
To nourish you through winter.”
“Be like a flower, then,” she smiled.
“And like a cabbage, too.
For it will sustain you:
Bland or spiced or hot or cold
Until the snow melts
And you have lived to a new spring
And can, one day, grow old.”
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Treasure Hunters
Photo Credit: Joy Pixley
It had been a long trek on an oven of a day in what had to be a replica of hell. I was parched half-way to mummification and about as lively as the end result, but Mark seemed as bouncy as a pixie in morning dew.
He checked the map. “Twenty more feet!”
Either he didn’t notice the forest of thorns (and its likely residents) or didn’t care. He was in his element. I definitely was not.
I’d joined THOR (Treasure Hunters Of Renown) a month prior, on the rebound from a breakup. The local chapter was small but Mark’s enthusiasm was contagious and the prospects were exciting. We compared topography maps with old mining records and discussed unsolved mysteries of lost gold from the bandit days of the Wild West. Hunting treasure sounded alluring. It made me feel brave. From the AC.
“I’m not going in there!” I croaked with a drywall tongue as my mind filled with images of scorpions and my ears strained for rattlers. I was sure I’d heard the cackle of ghosts.
If I made it home alive, the only treasures I wanted were a cool drink, my couch, and my remote.
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Unadorned Underground
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
In the depths
Where the colors all bleach
To the basics
Of power,
Persistence,
And life;
Lives the unadorned
Underground
Of deep water
Carving canyons
With time’s old
Stubborn knife.
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Nature
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Mirrored World
Photo: Amitai Asif
Where does solid begin?
Where does the liquid end?
Do the depths mirror
What lurks behind the bend?
Does the murk hold the answer?
Does the shimmer hide foe?
Will you know where to dive
And where you should not go?
For the Lens’ Artists Photo Challenge: Reflections
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If Eyes Could Speak
Photo: Dvora Freedman
If eyes could speak,
They’d tell of roads
No one should take,
And hardship that
Does not build,
But breaks.
If eyes could speak,
They’d share the stories
Of long paths,
That some must walk
With shattered hearts.
If eyes could speak,
They’d share hope, too.
For being seen
Brings light into
What one must know,
And one must do.
For Nancy Merrill’s a Photo a Week challenge: Eyes
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Next Level Parking
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
In the city where stairways
And buildings rise high
No surprise that car parks
Also aim for the sky …
Be aware it will take
Some time to dislodge
So it could be a tad tricky
To race out of Dodge…
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: engines and motors
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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
Na'ama Yehuda 
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