Writes With Pencils

fiction, memoir, essays and poetry

Month: April, 2015

S’mores

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

From Loch Venachar to The Trossachs

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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

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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

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

 

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