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On bare feet I steal away
into my garden beneath
stars frozen in the dark
magnitude of space

Steam rises from grass
laden with cold evening dew
warm air locks onto cooling
leaves forming an ethereal universe

Up ahead my tree seems to open
his arms awaiting my creeping form
with joyous abandon I fall into his
branched strength – finally free

The church bells rang out, stopping on the eleventh gong. Crowds were gathering in the street outside, a light rain fell keeping the ever present dust confined, but only a bit.

Horses whinnied, hushed voices rose, muffled by the block walls separating me, from them. The window too high to see through, only letting in the meager light of wavering torches held in the hands of my accusers.

I dozed. Guards roughly pulled me to my feet, walked me out into the night. It was time. I’d do it again. I was not sorry.

Raindrops slide down
the white gutter
attached to the blue house

The metal is cold
surviving yet another
Winter’s gusty bite

Drip drip drip
water droplets
cascade to the ground

A clap of thunder mars
the quiet solitude of the night
vibrating sleeping puddles awake

Little artificial ponds overflow
sending tiny waterfalls
to bombard rock and dirt boulders

Ants block entrances
into their hill homes
with saliva packed sand

Beetles hide beneath
bright green leaves
sagging beneath the rains weight

Insects scurry up
and out of harms way
avoiding being maimed or drowned

Only man foregoes
the warnings of nature
ignoring the oncoming flood

In response to Carrot Ranch Literary Community’s February 20, 2023 Story Challenge
Prompt Words – Literary Artist in 99 Words Hosted by Charli Mills

To turn emotion into a word, an experience into a sentence and a life into a story; that is a literary artist. Peering into the unseeable, deciphering hidden messages, unraveling puzzles into a stream of aesthetic words pleasing to both reader and writer.

To be a conduit, a messenger. To bring reverence to the wonders of the Earth. To stir fascination, acceptance and protection about the myriad cultures this world has emanated. To exalt over our majestic animal species and keep their plight alive within the human conscience. To continue to be my best. A writer. A literary artist.

Alejandro rode quickly upon his magnificent white steed. The river behind him had turned white, signifying an early Mountain snow melt. Soon the river would overflow its banks and would most certainly, wipe away his village.

He donned his black mask, pulling back on the horse’s reigns. The white beauty reared up on his back legs, his front legs kicked high. As soon as his hooves hit the dry ground beneath him,
he stretched out into a full run.

The masked man barreled into the village, yelling to anyone he could see, telling them to run. The villagers raced to the highest cliff where they watched their homes and meager businesses being washed away.

One of the men turned to Alejandro and thanked him profusely, then asked,
“To whom do we owe our lives masked one?”

The horse reared again. The man’s voice rang out clear and true,

“Zorro!”

In response to dVerse’ Quadrille Monday Prompt: MUSIC (in exactly 44 words not counting the title)
Hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg

Listen past the constant hum hum
of cars pounding tired tires on broken
pavement

Hear the music of Nature living
her heartbeat strong beneath your
feet

Smell the richness of the fertile soil
she provides to all those willing to
toil

In response to Debbie Smith’s One Word Sunday Prompt: THROUGH

In response to bwarren’s
The Sunday Whorl Wordle #593

Cliff edge welcomed the Elder
expecting her before now
Gripping stalks of thistle to throw
in her gnarled, arthritic fingers
only a slight tremor in her hands
revealed their loss of dexterity

Raising both arms she became
one with air and sky offering
The mountain crest dropped
into the depths of a yawning maw
where a lone crow called to her

A widow’s sheet held tightly
around her slight body
She walked slowly through
wispy gusts of air colored
red by the setting sun

Radiant suns rays shimmer
on a future dismal and bleak
Daffodils push through
ground unfrozen by the warmth

Greenery abounds outdoors
inside nothing ever grows
Morning Glory vines
send feeler sprouts out to scout

A family of Goldfinches
stop to eat from a bird-feeder
filled to the brim with fresh seed
Blessed are the birds of wild

Captured avians left alone
in cages devoid of light
Deprived of food, water and care
are not so blessed as their kin

The Earth turns each face
to the mighty orb in the sky
Every day gaining sustenance
inside she withers and dies

Through the dense cover of clouds
circling in her unending journey
A lone sunbeam breaks through
nourishing her fading core