Falling Leaves
The forest isn’t silent, not really
Falling leaves twist in the wind
Crinkling as they descend
Their echoes bouncing from branch to branch
In a secret language of changing seasons, color
The pine needle floor fades my footfalls to
A whisper of a memory as the path behind disappears
In the diminishing sunlight
I understand how one gets lost in the forest
I know why one so chooses
I wandered around the facility where my art quilt class was held and walked past this outdoor fireplace. It was still too hot for it to be lit, but I can imagine how much fun it will be in colder weather.
We lost several trees to the drought this year. When spring came, our two peach trees had no blooms, no leaves; they remained barren. They’d been there 17 years and most of those years were in drought. It’s not easy being a tree.
A peach blossom from 2015
The Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
Photo copyright Janet M Webb
Could Be Worse
Michelle couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d been inside all day working overtime on a Saturday in the office building’s basement, alone. Insulated from sound and without any windows, she had no idea the storm arrived, depositing flash-flood level rains.
She’d just have to wait until the waters receded. She sighed, Saturday night at the office? How pathetic!
She retreated to the break room. Still, she thought, it could be worse. I hate getting my shoes wet. She noticed the vending machines were full, having been restocked Friday afternoon. “Orange Hostess Cupcakes in slot B-13,” she squealed in delight, “my favorite!”
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To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.
It's a long story ... 