Meet the Beat

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


The new piece unfolded in his head during the long flight. The chords danced to the beat of the flickering red light on the airplane’s wing and the turbulence lent base to the melody. It was perfect. He’d have written the notes right there and then had it not been for his propensity to motion sickness. Staring out the window was the only remedy. Sometimes the best inspiration.

“Let it go, let it go!” his daughter’s singing in her room welcomed him home.

And the nascent harmonies obeyed, dispersed, let gone.


For The Friday Fictioneers June 29 2018 Challenge

Coniston Choice

Image result for coniston water lake district



She shrugged her macintosh off to use as ground cover before lowering herself gingerly. She drove two hours to get here and her hip still protested anything less cushioned than her bed, let alone damp gravel. Still, walking in the fresh air was good for her, the doctor said.

Didn’t say where she had to do that walking, and Norm was no longer around to object. He’d been terrified of flying, worried about trains, sea-sick on boats, wary around cars. Poor Norm. She couldn’t blame him. Not after what he’d gone through during the war.

Made for dreary holidays, though.

Not anymore.

She gazed at the lake, took a deep breath, and pulled the folded papers out of her pocket: The unsigned bill of sale for the house; the travel agent’s brochure for the round-the-world ticket.


For What Pegman Saw: Coniston Water Lake District

Awakening Priorities

Coffee Tzur Moriah

Photo: Tzur Moriah


In the cold blur of morning

Atop a bare, frigid slope

Here’s to friendly warmth brewing

And a good view to scope.



For The Photo Challenge

Light Insight


Photo: Tobias Keller via Unsplash


As they rode through the smoke, through the night, to the light

Amidst trees, atop hooves, in the saddle upright

Sun kissed heads, offered heart, till homecoming delight.



For Three Line Tales Week 95

Express to Play

train to play SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein


Take the express train

To a fun-filled day

Recall the awe

Of speed and sway

And hold on to

The gift of play.



For The Daily Post

Time Travel …

Just for fun, now that the weather is working on being presentable and the outdoors will call with sun and blue sky: a little look on how people got going in such times gone by.
Here is the family circa 1910 and out for a ride… (she with ‘side-saddle’ seat, of course, lest propriety be harmed …)–and then there’s the ‘baby carrier’ all snug as bug in a rug in the back … (complete with pergola to keep out the sun but not much in the way of keeping the babe in if the bike goes down …)

baby 'car' seat


Prefer to go ‘natural’? There’s an option for that … Just not sure you will get very far or too fast before you’re in the dust …

ostrich cab


Think a bike is too risky and skirts may snag up to reveal an ankle or (gasp) a well stockinged calf? No worries–there’s technology to harness, 1916 a cutting edge craft.

scooter gal


Hail a cab? Not a problem. London upped its own game, and in 1907, taxies happily came.



Want to live on the road? Sure–that’s swell. Mobil home to the rescue, chimney and awning as well.

mobil home


Fast forward a bit. It’s the 1950 and the family’s grown … There are three now to take along … (okay, it is not the same family, but the concept is shown …). Big improvement from high-wheels, better balance on bikes and no more side-saddle for mom (Victorians would blanch at the thighs on display, but how they paddled one legged puzzles me to this day …).

cycling family

So … by bike (or an ostrich?), by scooter or bus, by taxi or stroller or RV or a hike–get your gear up and ready and plan some fun routes: there’s a world worth exploring, and many venues to use …

The Language of a Smile


This may be cliche to some, but not to me. I’ve seen it. Many times.

Just the other week, I saw a group of children–preschoolers–play at the airport, in the space between gates with flights departing to globe spanning destinations.

Some among the handful of kids spoke different languages, and none of them knew each other until a moment prior. 

Nonetheless, there was a long wait to be had, a few empty water bottles, a ribbon to pull, and play-ready age-mates to pass the time with. So they found a way. Their giggles filled the space with the ripple of childhood joy that knows no borders, religion, nationality, language, tradition, or race.

The children babbled to each other in their own respective languages, understanding not the words but at the very least enough to go on playing, to take turns, to get a notion for a silly something that sent waves of hilarity through the lot of them …

Adults sat nearby, keeping an eye on their child with a little less wariness of each other, now that their young ones felt so at ease. After all, these were just children playing together: they were not political statements or status symbols or religious flagships. They did not carry burdens of group-mentalities or dogmas or beliefs. It was okay to just be. To share a moment. And a smile.

For the adults, too, smiled. A careful, half-lip smile, weighted by whatever notions and knowings, history and worries adults often have for those they do not know and whose language they don’t understand. A half-smile it began but it grew warmer when eyes met following a child’s antic, a cute gesture, a silly face, a giggly laugh.

Like the children, the adults smiled the same smile in every language. Or rather, they smiled in one language–the one we all recognize and know by heart. The language of humanity. The language of a smile.