And it would make a fine bed, nestling in the cracked wall near the gate. A place to peep out at the world, safe above the high tide marks of a pavement that turns into torrent as every rain rivers down the hill.
Brighton has elms. Some 30 000. They line my street. Their seeds lie in soft drifts, cushion footsteps, swirl up at my face in playful storms, find a way into the heel of my shoe, drift down in endless slanting rain that colours the sky's breath, tie flags to the silver lines of every spider's web. Open the front door and the house welcomes them in, sucks up the dregs through a paper straw, satisfied.
And already, the day seems to have blown out of my hands.
12 comments:
Annie - this is one of your best posts yet! The images are fantastic and the ending - wow!!
Hi Gordon. Thank you very much. It's hard to know what else to say in response to your comment. But you might like to know, that having been fascinated to observe the sweeping habits of the neighbours over the last couple of weeks, I just came home and saw a council street sweeper truck complete with snuffling elephant hose going along the gutters.
Annie – I think what engages me so about your writing is your astute observation of the small everyday things that are the threads of life, if we only stop to notice. You create word images that enchant me with what seems like a daily celebration of being alive. Thank you.
oh, thank you Gordon - my words exactly - Annie, thank god for Gordon - sigh..... :)
Hi Leslie. Thank you for your words. I don't know what else to say right now in response to them, except thanks for reading and for taking the time to comment.
Hi Jeane. See - sometimes it happens to me too! Smiling again....thanks.
Beautiful words indeed, Annie. You certainly put life/ breath into your words. And, you build a curiosity in the reader. Thanks for sharing. Have a nice night.
Beautiful... I could feel the warmth and the seedlings under my feet, too.
Hi Michelle. Thank you. Interesting that you mentioned life/breath. I read all my pieces out loud, so they breathe with me, I guess. Thanks for your thoughts.
Hi Patrice. Thanks. I'm pleased that my little street scene hit home.
Thank you for sharing,
Your words breathe every day life.
Katelen
Hi Katelen. Thank you and thanks for dropping by.
Lovely piece - it left me quite breathless, I felt I was being blown through it like a seed. We have seeds caught in webs here too - although ours are dandelion seeds!
Hi Jem. Thank you. Hope you have got your breath back! It's been great to read so many lovely comments for a piece. Hope the wind grabs some of those dandelion seeds and takes them elsewhere for you.
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