Writes With Pencils

fiction, memoir, essays and poetry

Month: April, 2015



Gooey, tender hearts
toasted over fires of grief,
heightens their sweetness.

From Loch Venachar to The Trossachs



Swollen loch,

pregnant with snow melt

and spring rains,

holds the promise of juicy things

the birth of ripe berries

plucked one by one

from brambles whose thorns

snag hand-knit, woolen sleeves

then scratch and scar bare arms

drawing a crimson trail

which leads away from

the plump prize.

Little League


On rainy grey days

when the swings and slides

are abandoned

for story books and dress-up,

lego blocks and finger paints,

I can still hear the coaches’ calls

and children’s excitement

from the adjacent baseball diamond.

Unlike the fair-weather pros

they pitch, bat, and run

in all weather

and I am comforted

by their sounds

of pure love of the game.

Forgotten Truths of Childhood #56



What is it about
stomping with boots in puddles
that makes it sheer joy? 


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