thou. Sand castle, sandpaper. Let me find you, says the wind. The dog lifts her head, ears pricked, nostrils twitching. What did she hear? Something transdimensional? A worm turning? At one end of the world a bell rings; at the other someone waits, listening for an answer. We made it to the top of the mountain. To get any higher, hail an angel. Or a cyclone. Thank you, days, months, years, for counting. There’s not a minute to lose, yet here they are, all over the ground. How many have you squirreled away? Three two-minute segments, one five-minute, one one.
And ... done!
ReplyDeleteWhat are you feeling? Relief? Satisfaction? Terror? Meh?
Bravo!!
ReplyDeleteHow'm I feeling ... a little stunned?
ReplyDeleteI made reservations at a fancy restaurant for tonight.
Thanks, Steve!
ReplyDelete'At the end of the world a bell rings.' This is such an achievement, Glenn. You made it and we who've traveled alongside you, dipping into these beautiful and strange and sensuous word bites will miss the music, even as the final bell ringing echoes in our ears.
ReplyDeleteThanks, my friend.
Thank you, Elisabeth!
ReplyDelete