Climate Change
In winter, my father climbed our steeply pitched roof with a shovel, almost as dexterous as a goat. We kids dug endless marble tunnels?warm as igloos?in drifts that the morning plow pushed against our fences. Now I have forsaken the country of snow. The view from my terrace is like a museum diorama of the Mesozoic. I step barefoot through sliding glass onto Spanish tile to watch the downpour, a window of water flowing inches from my face.
waiting for the rainbow
I dream
of ice caps melting
Beautiful!
Lovely motif of movement right the way through this. Very emotive and sensory.
Wow, "I dream of ice caps melting" is awesome good. The juxtaposition with "waiting for the rainbow" works very well—especially after the prose piece to begin.
This flowed beautifully – the once changing seasons, now changeable, interchangeable …
early spring a blade of grass butterflies
Very emotive and sensory.. Thank post