Soon reaching top speed
Soon reaching top speed
To the lock
At the end of
But the adversity
Of its birth.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Lock
I glanced across the chasm. For someone born and raised in the Alps amidst sharp elevations, I was woefully unequipped. Sometimes I wondered what Karma I’d accumulated to explain it.
“You are protected, Dania.”
I looked up desperately at my mother, who wore an encouraging smile and already had one foot on the swaying bridge and a hand held out to assist me. Even as a baby I’d been known to tremble at the sight of any height, yet Mother’s optimism never wavered that one day her offspring would overcome what to her was an incomprehensible fear. She adored climbing.
Why she took me to Bhutan.
“This bridge is blessed,” my mother tried. “You’ll come to no harm.”
“I cannot,” I whispered, my legs shaking. Each prayer flag a flutter to match mine, the river vertiginous miles below. “No prayer will suffice. My very soul knows it’ll die.”
From above the way
The clouds hold sway
As the Arctic clings on
To the day.
She could be
When she strolls
The fine edge
Of the sea.
The rock of waves
Holding a sway,
He grasps the bar
Through misty spray,
As mountains loom
In white and gray.
Find wild places inside your
Where vistas stretch
Climb peaks you did not know
For the Lens-Artist Challenge: Wild
As you descend toward the shore
At the edges
Of what will
In a moment be
The touchdown to your welcome home.
Note: This photo was taken last month, on a cellphone, from behind the thick windows of a Boeing 787 on approach to JFK (shadow of the aircraft on the water).
Wider than the wildest view
To draw in breath
And nourish you.
“Is it a mongoose?” Molly squinted.
“Kind of cat.” Alfred raised his camera.
“No cat nor mongoose. It’s a Fossa. Belongs to the Viverrids.” Know-it-All Natalie noted, head-to-toe in expensive expedition gear.
“Vye-ve-whats?” Molly blurted.
Alfred shot Molly a warning glance, but it was too late.
“Viverrids. Civets. Genets. Or, if you need the very basics: Mammals. Endemic to Madagascar. Carnivorous. Eat lemurs, mostly, though they won’t turn their nose at lizards or birds or tenrecs.”
Alfred sighed. There’d be no stopping the Nataliepedia now. The woman was the bane of their group. He eyed the animal. Vye-ve whatever. Looked like dorky cougar to him.
“Nice fur,” he tried.
“You better not even think of it,” Natalie admonished, delighted. “They’re protected by fady. That’s local for taboo, in case you didn’t know that, either.”
Bet you aren’t, Alfred grumbled internally. Are fossa too fussy to have YOU for lunch?
never judge a girl by her weight
original fiction, rhyme and photography
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