Mindful Writing Day – post your small stones here (& get your free book)

chesil beach

November the 1st – it’s Mindful Writing Day!

This is our second year, when many people new to mindful writing & many old friends will be paying attention to what’s around them and writing a small stone

A small stone is what happens when you pause, observe what you can hear, see, feel, smell & taste, and write it down. This kind of mindful writing will help you to snuggle up closer to the world.

Post your small stone here in the comments, or write it in your notebook, or share them on Facebook or Twitter. I’m looking forward to reading them very much…

A Blackbird SingsWe also have a gift for you – our latest anthology of small stones, including essays by Kaspa & Satya (under her old name Fiona) – ‘A Blackbird Sings’.

Get your kindle copy from Amazon UK, Amazon US or your own Amazon. It will be free during the 1st and 2nd of November. If you don’t have a kindle you can read it on your PC or phone by getting free software here. There are some small stones from the book below to whet your appetite.

We’ll be running a Mindful Writing Challenge in January, sign up to our newsletter if you’d like to be kept up to date.

And if you’d like to use small stones and mindful writing to explore any niggling questions you have about your life during November, our two e-courses start today – Eastern Therapeutic Writing with Kaspa or Writing Ourselves Alive with Satya. Join us!

The deep, spiced cocktail of the hedgerow –
honeysuckle, dogshit, wet grass

Nikki Magennis


purple explosion
at end of green fuse —
first crocus

Craig W. Steele


I awaken on your front lawn
staring at a cumulonimbus cathedral

William Merricle


A sleeve of rain
moves down the beach,
racing the bathers to their cars.

Kathleen Brewin Lewis


The cat has been scratching the couch again,
and we know from finding his old claw sheaths,
those shed chitinous commas,
which I gathered, and used, to populate
this poem.

Joseph Harker

Comments & replies

253 thoughts on “Mindful Writing Day – post your small stones here (& get your free book)

    1. Lonni K

      Very small hand
      waving hi

      Very deep blue
      hardening in my soul
      Very tall one
      talks to God each day
      over a thousand
      is the sum of my love
      running through heaven
      a bit like you and me
      the greatest gift
      of hearts


  1. Beverly Kipp

    Anitcipation. Outside grey skies and slick piles of leaves await tiny ghoulies and ghosties, Goldilocks and gremlins. Inside, pumkin seeds roast, bowls of candy get poured out skeletons get hung in the dimly lit windows. Even the dog is decorate with orange and black as we wait for darkness and trick or treaters to arrive.

  2. Adam Dunsby

    The Euclidean lines which allow this space, define this place, barricade the internal snug, from the external onslaught of winter flux.

  3. Christine de Jong

    There is a peacefulness in the streetlamps shining and reflected in the puddles and everyone asleep

  4. Maryrose

    Roasted chestnuts of November
    dampness and flickering nights
    the sharp flavour
    of quinces and prickly pears
    in fiery Sicilian lands
    just tell me it’s time
    to join the oblivious dance
    on the yellow-brown
    tapestry of fallen leaves

  5. Natalie Turner

    Finger tips tingle, numbness explodes, as I sit, resting in silence.
    Sunlight sprinkles shadows, warming my face.
    My back aches.

  6. Valerie Letkeman

    The birds chased the clouds,
    creating a cloud of their own as
    they moved restlessly across the sky.

    I needed an edit lol

  7. Theresa Cancro

    Two small stones for today –

    toppled pumpkin 
    his frown turned upside-down
    mocking me

    * * *
    deep amber —
    sweet-gum resin
    spikes the morning air

  8. Ane-Marie Kjeldberg

    The smell of coffee
    and the peach coloured roses blooming
    without any knowledge of coming frost

  9. Awen Thornber

    Look beyond the mask with your heart and soul. Your eyes will only see the surface but your heart and soul will delve deeper and reveal the secrets.

  10. Kirsten Cliff

    with the weight of the day I find my mind has crumbled
    somewhere, the wail of a peacock, the clock’s tick
    and a dream awaits it’s place in my journal

  11. Jasmine Jagger

    Viciously an agonising blister whips my bare neck.
    Wrists buried deep in dark rich chocolate earth.
    Prematurely the ground gives birth, I pull from her womb
    a pale limp spine. Over the palm of my hand,
    a fragile head hangs loosely.

  12. Heather Walker

    Drizzle peppers the garden from a grey flung sheet;
    Geraniums and Begonias pinprick red and pink hope.

  13. Maaike Klaster

    Treurwilg – Weeping Willow

    Ik weet dat je er bent
    I know you’re there

    Voor altijd aan de waterkant
    Forever standing at the waterfront


  14. JulesPaige


    morning rains
    bring dreams
    through locked doors

    your smile
    your warmth
    your boots on the floor

    and yet
    you are
    still far away


  15. Daphne Radenhurst

    Like Icarus from the sky,
    A leaf,
    Dark congealed blood red,
    Wedged in the rose bush.

  16. Jackie Harris

    Silvered vessel of bitter grounds
    Steeped to molten liquid
    Brewing to perfection
    Tangible aroma
    Harboring the warm kick
    to boot my day.
    My starter-motor solanoid of deliciousness
    Sparking the combustion to get up and dance another day.

  17. Christine de Jong

    This Sacred Moment
    Of Just Observing Nature
    From My Window
    In Pure Silence
    Utterly Content
    Extremely grateful…..

  18. Lindsey

    Soulful and silent, melancholic eyes stare up at me with what appears to be sadness. A deep heaving sigh, she lowers her head and looks away. Oh to know what she is thinking. I say her name, scratch behind her ear and her tail wags an acknowledgment of our mutual love and affection for each other.

  19. carol edgerley

    Four dogs all playing together on the lawn, watched by two bunnies from their run, watched by two interested pussycats!

  20. Sally O'Donnell

    In a belated tribute to Halloween, the fragile web quivered as the spider sprinted purposefully towards his breakfast.

  21. Angela Makinson

    and the shimmering mountains, vast and majestic

    decked with trees, gold and red

    herald the coming months of winter

  22. Jean

    The rain was heavy. Fallen leaves, plastered into pavement picture-frames, curl and glisten as they start to dry – settling into new, more muted, more translucent colours.

  23. Kate Noakes

    Small stone for Mindful Writing Day – 1 November 2013

    10,000 statues, more

    On All Saints day it always rains
    so their stones can freshen, their hands loosed
    by soft sulphur can brush away lichen
    and moss, rub their faces cream again
    remember how two fingers make a blessing.

  24. Mary

    Last night,
    Kitchen decluttered
    This morning,
    space and joy on rising.
    The dining room.
    One drawer at a time.

  25. Chaundra Loesch

    Must admit by comparison…
    Man is no more tame than the wild beast…
    And for all of Nature’s raw unkindness…
    We have miles to go before we find our own compassion.
    How can we expect nature to be anything but wild and untamed???
    Yet, man has worked to strip, and subdue her…
    She the most Wild of Wilds…
    The very thing we suppress and like to pretend we are above…
    Our wildness…
    But, it’s there…
    Just beneath the thin veneer of our faux social masks…
    I believe it is our denial and suppression of our animistic nature that causes so
    Many to erupt with the sheer pressure of pretense…
    The external war…
    Has an internal source…
    Man needs to recognize his greatest challenge lies in conquering…
    His fear of his OWN shadow.
    Perhaps if we embraced rather than subdued our shadow…
    Peace would find us.
    And dwell within our hearts.

    Chaundra Loesch~Oct 30, 2013

  26. francesca perry carboni

    Amongst the red rooved cacophony
    Of chimneys, cables, aerials and dishes,
    Two doves chatter,
    Baring their pearly oyster breasts
    In the 9.00 am sun.

  27. emilywilkinson

    Broken gold edging glints delicately in the café light, the sugar bowl is chipped but pretty.

  28. Alison Cone

    Here, on the cusp of my forty-fifth birthday, I pause. ‘You don’t look it,’ I am told, but my hands voice a quiet commentary that yes, I am ageing, and it is inevitable.

    I still like these hands – practical, useful hands. Yet the skin is certainly not as taut as it once was. A pinch sees the skin ease back into place, no longer youthfully elastic. Instead it slides gently and faintly creased across the prominent bones, and I can see in its diamond pattern the furrows that will become.

    They are almost man’s hands, these hands, with long fingers and broad palms perched on absurdly slim and bony wrists, a strange combination of the robust and the delicate, and stronger than they look.The inside of my wrists are pale and tender, riven by blue and purple veins vulnerable beneath the skin.
    The palms, pink and blotchy, are drawn with lines that etch more deeply each year. I can no longer find the freckle on my right palm that was once my only approximation of a birthmark– it has faded from existence. I count in my palms the scars of experience – a slice from palm to wrist a memento of mirror mosaic; a gouge near the ball of the thumb from a dirty metal bar; another a sideways slice into the left finger that shocks with odd nervelessness when barring chords; the hearty slice of index finger that added piquancy to the casserole.

    My nails are not oddly shaped individually, but as a group they fall short of standards for beauty – my index fingernails will grow into feminine ovals while the adjacent nails are wide and shovelled and my thumbnails crack and craze at their tips. They are a practical length and make little clatter as my fingers rattle qwerty across the keyboard. Yet even that scant length speaks of neglect, for I have not picked up my instrument in months and the left-hand nails, too long for the fretboard, silently and daily accuse me.

    But there is a fine and almost uneradicable line of soil edging each nail, ground into the unprotected sides, and only sharp scraping will get it out. I am somewhat proud of this infintesimal stroke of dirt, as it commends me for industry and a commitment to my little garden, its pots and beds valiantly defended from snails, currawongs and the dog.

  29. Libby Leaper

    Elfje: Mindfully
    driving along
    warching out for
    ruts, bumps and road

    Haiku: Driving mindfully,
    watching out for ruts and bumps,
    pot-holes and road signs.

  30. Rocky Ackerman

    Once I saw a dirt road
    made of red clay
    and oyster shells,
    the sky strong – the strength of cobalt blue.
    Then I saw a skyline from afar
    on the side of a barn and
    I stopped and stayed here awhile.

  31. Maureen Hall

    Three raucous, black rooks circle above stygian firs, dark against a cornflower sky. Wind-blown cirrus morph into sunlit mares’ tails. Dog pauses to sniff at the corpse of a dead vole, dropped by a night-time hunter. Shadow and light; earth and sky; life and death: the circle of creation.

  32. Jackie Stewart

    luxurious slab of cacao butter
    melts into golden liquid
    steams my cheeks and kisses the back of my throat
    with flirtatious half-tastes of chocolate

  33. Rosemary Nissen-Wade

    The Final Month of Spring

    The deep blue stripe of the sea spreads out before my gaze as I crest the hill, telling me summer is coming — the season of holidays, of beaches, is nearly here. I come home and see that overnight my frangipani tree has covered itself with flowers.

  34. Hazel

    Quiet time at the office. My thoughts are loud and clear.
    Outside, the gray, cloudy air throwing droplets at the window reminds me: November has begun.

  35. Nikki Magennis

    living room

    the year turns again. thin yellow sun
    draws edges on the day.
    at my feet, my son in his robot pyjamas
    cuts cardboard
    into smaller and smaller pieces.
    the baby nibbles at my breast as she sleeps.
    outside, the last mottled ash leaves
    shake on the tree.

  36. Jane Jaggon

    Her ponytail jiggles as she laughs at the joke about the theme park, designed to put her at ease. The machine cranks and jolts around her as the glutinous substance glides down her gullet, the button pressed and the screen freezes in alignment with her spine, strikingly beautiful inside as out.

      1. Elizabeth G. Howard (@smallstate)

        Oh! I just realized it said “flurry” instead of “fury”…. hmmm!

  37. Jane Wiedler

    my 3rd floor window in watercolor, a grey wash
    the ashen sky reflected
    concrete rooftop, stretch of puddle, frantic magpie flapping
    the only color, the gilt-edged maple, is already half fallen
    acrid diesel billows from the garage downstairs
    summoning other autumns—pastel sunrays across
    my face and that unique smell of soot
    on the salty air

  38. michelle gd

    there is rain and wind
    and just now
    the whistling of the kettle
    children cozy on the couch
    with book and pup
    and i sit with my words
    letting their fullness sink into
    every nook of my being

  39. Evi Schumacher

    Early morning the house yet dark and chilly
    Reluctant to rise I linger in bed
    Savoring the delicious warmth a little longer

  40. Fi Phillips

    The Wane-strel

    Like the wane-ing of the moon, my energy shrinks when she is around me with her words of disdain, criticism and disapproval. She misses the magic in the precious gift that life has dropped into our laps, while ‘they’ laugh, dance and breathe joy around us.

  41. Elisabeth

    The morning sun peeks between the wooden blind slats, and illuminates the family portrait hanging on the wall. Yesterday’s happy memories are alive again in my thoughts.

  42. Siobhan Mc Laughlin

    A cloud of starlings murmur
    across the sky
    like a bee swarm
    a sound-wave folding and unfurling
    silent music of delight,
    jolting the day

  43. Lonni K

    Very small hand
    waving hello


    Very deep blue
    hardening in my soul


    over a thousand
    is the sum of my love


    running through heaven
    a bit like you and me


    Very tall one
    talks to God each day


    the greatest gift
    of hearts

  44. Paul L. White

    Oh, be it now, or be it then,
    I often wonder if my ken
    Could bring the Tender of my youth
    To modern day, in its uncouth
    Of manners giv’n to those outside
    The usual fare in which I ride?

    If way back then, would I succeed
    In recognizing stranger’s need?
    Or would I startle those around
    With lofty air and snobbish sound?

    If here and now, do I descend
    To par of those who quick portend
    “We are elite, and they are not?”
    Do I, instead, stir melting pot?

    Oh, may my soul be sure to see
    Yon person there is just like me!

  45. Elaine

    Half-asleep teens and impatient parents. Headlights and tail lights in the gusty wind and rain and pre-dawn dark. Chaos in the high school parking lot.

  46. Before

    Before dawn, I wave at Orion from my garden.

    This morning I’m grateful for deep blue sky, gold trees. I whisper, “thank you” to those who gave me life. Day of All Souls.

  47. greg dunn

    Eight small hooves tumble in alarm across the oak leaves. I wasn’t supposed to come back outside.

  48. Kirsi

    Grey cotton candy on my needles,
    keeping busy restless hands.
    A heavy hammer on my chest,
    coffee tastes of waiting.
    But the phone stays silent.

    1. Mary Sherman

      Kirsi- you’ve written my every morning experience whilst searching for new employ…”coffee tastes of waiting/but the phone stays silent.”

  49. Adara

    Awash in flame: deep red, burnt orange, golden yellow. A soft wind whispers through, and the leaves drift like wayward sparks to the ground.

  50. d smith kaich jones

    heading east into the sun,
    mary lou’s shadow follows her on her morning walk, like a small dog a step behind.

  51. Mary Sherman

    waking up to rememberance of jealousy, pangs of embarrassment.
    wanting to forgive, the solar plexus recoils and churns.
    and then, Handel’s Messiah rings out Halleluja reigning down as salve.
    the poison is the medicine.

  52. Andrew Jones

    Sorrow pricks sharply
    As I dance with joy.
    These my two dancing partners
    Weave a waltz in my life.
    Each a necessary part like moonlight on a dark river.
    Chilli bubbling on the stove.
    I smile and hold the sorrow in my heart.

  53. John

    Grey clouds, Chilling winds,
    Bustling people to busy to stop
    A small teddy falls into a mud filled puddle.
    A child’s cry,
    Drowned out by the noise of the town.

  54. Ronda R Scott-Marak

    Red ribbon
    Colour of blood, overlie, restoring;
    Peep-bo into hearts of people wearing

  55. F. E. Clark

    Shadows cast by the Ancient Pines – stretch the length of the field – to kiss my boots – among the Birch leaf confetti.

  56. Jasmine Jagger

    I see you. Your vocal waves spike wildly.
    Spitting venomous words, false purity hides poison,
    in desperate action you plague the weak,
    their pity still surrounds you.
    I see you

  57. becca givens

    mounds of aged black-n-whites
    time capsule
    an era seventy to ninety eons past
    lofty hopes and dreams of youth
    keenly aware of her dwindling days
    with a sigh

  58. Susie Clevenger

    A clock ticks in the library…
    Disconnected from a schedule
    I reap quiet with
    ink stained fingers
    and an empty coffee cup.

  59. Lonni K

    In autumns chest
    a yellow heart
    like a red sun

    Autumn is wise
    because answers are
    blowing in the wind


  60. Elizabeth G. Howard (@smallstate)

    All the chatter in my head
    Leaps up and over the other like a
    Roomful of
    Barbershop quartets.

  61. Virginia Curtis-Threadgull

    Crunching under my feet
    a layer of sugar-frosting covers everything
    sharp shimmers sparkle as the sun rises
    The biting air makes my cheeks blush
    The wind is not bitter, yet a reminder
    of cold dark days ahead.

  62. John Oliver

    One duck paddles along as a ever increasing V shape wake trails behind on the still lake surface.

  63. Jo Settle

    Cat in the grass chasing leaves — sparkling dew drops still remain — calling birds glorying in the sun — breezes making the chimes come alive.

    Jo Settle

  64. Gerald

    Breeze blowing from lands beyond the horizon; sea-windmills whirling, gaily; a blonde dog, bouncing on vibrant legs, barks to the wind. “I’m here! I’m here!”

  65. Beverly Kipp

    Toddler terrorizing the office, I pour over the manual for the new appliances, gifts from the gods we call offspring. Laundry, as colorful as varigated yarn, spills out over the top of the hamper, waiting for me to learn how to press

    1. Matt Westwood

      “pore”, I believe, not “pour” — you might want to attend to that before submitting for book publication.

      1. Beverly Kipp

        I learn something new everyday. I am a nurse and only knew pore as in skin. Thank you , I think. Remember, though, I had a toddler on my knee and it is a small stone of reflection, not a book. ::))))

      2. Ian Hill

        Surely Beverly is correct with ‘pour’ Matt? Anyway, these are only ‘pebbles’, not spelling tests!

        1. Beverly Kipp

          Thank you Ian, for defending my honor ( or is that honour?) but I researched it and, to my surprise, pore would be proper in that context. Enough now ladies and gentlemen.

        2. S.E.Ingraham

          No, Matt is correct — I’m a part-time editor, thought he was incorrect, so checked…you “pore over” something (as in being absorbed in a book, material etc.) according to my Oxford Dictionary…so thanks for both/all (?) of us Matt

  66. Maggie Grace

    last rose not quite blossomed
    holds tightly to yellow and red petals
    head bowing toward the autumn ground
    perhaps the rose reluctant
    to share its full beauty
    knowing frost may strike
    her down

  67. beth gormley

    The rebarbative buzz
    of my guitar’s B-string
    stings my left eardrum
    and makes my teeth tingle.

  68. Jennifer Del Castillo

    In the midst of chaos and loss,
    there is still a source of strength.

    Permeating through the inner soul
    like the currents of an ocean.
    Some turbulent
    Others calm

  69. KiKi L'Italien

    Papers, books, the smell of old coffee
    My back aches as I paint another heart into my journal
    “When we stop growing, we begin to decay” rattles around in my brain
    Must. Keep. Painting.
    A feeling of old breath
    Yet underneath it…yellow!
    Still there is hope as the cold settles into my bones.

  70. Mari Sexton

    Birdchatter beneath my window
    This cold autumnal morn
    Nature’s tweeted message
    For me to wake.

  71. Kathy Nguyen

    how to wear a tail
    of a thousand flames?
    from that old moon
    I wake up from the dream
    I once thought I was to become

    laundry . . .
    folding into
    my own breath,
    my own quiet pain

  72. Ian Hill

    There is a delicious, deep, velvety darkness to the sky above me as the calm cold of the night envelops me and the first twit-twoo of an owl cries out through the smell of the first bonfire.

  73. nancy brady

    A tiny patch of purple and white alyssum blossoms at the edge of the sidewalk. How did they there? They weren’t planted. They’re obviously volunteers seeds from somewhere, scattered on the wind, bringing color to this gray autumn day.

  74. Ian Hill

    I sit and sketch – seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling the touch of the earth and my pencil on the paper and really, really taking in all that is happening around me, tasting and savouring the moment.

  75. Nonnie

    All Saints Day
    A day of holy obligation,
    but that is not what brings me here
    to my parish church;
    it is love for God and my neighbors
    that draws me to this place.
    Then, the students sing,
    opening my heart
    and I join in the gift they offer
    to God.

  76. Jamieson Wolf

    The birds ignore the rain.
    The sounds of traffic don’t phase them.
    They only experience joy,
    and then fly away.

  77. christine

    the wind moves through the trees
    telling me of the one body
    me tree wind

    no me no tree
    the formless wind becomes

  78. Kathleen Maugeri

    Are you embarrassed
    Little maple leaf?
    What have you done?
    Your bright red face
    Betrays your autumn kiss!

  79. Kathie Sutherland

    My small stone

    a blanket of gold leaves
    warm cuddles for sleeping roots
    wind before the snow
    lifting the frosty edges

  80. caroline

    the turf sods are suffused with a deep orange glow
    flames reaching up,dancing and intertwining
    watching them i feel cosy and at peace

  81. Matt Westwood

    Amidst the forest of integral signs, existential quantifiers, aleph-nulls and amphecks: a joke about Socrates.

  82. S.E.Ingraham

    A slate sky slings stinging sleet, whispering promises of winter coming on strong, coming on more quickly than yesterday did or tomorrow will; autumn has been chased off the scene entirely.

  83. Jayashree Maniyil

    just then –
    a blackbird found a worm
    a leaf of the geranium dropped
    the sun swayed between the pittosporums
    the lawn burnt under my feet
    the breeze played with my hair
    a sparrow hopped on the fence
    a plane sounded through the sky
    an echo of an answering bird
    a butterfly dived into the daisies

  84. Mat Cross

    My slow breakfast
    in the whirring box,
    rotating, inflating, rising to the brim.
    I’m peering in, paused with a hand ready
    to catch it mid-mushroom –

  85. carole johnston

    how life intrudes on fiction
    a lady but crawls on my finger
    I stop writing the novel and
    write this stone instead

  86. carole johnston

    lady bug
    how life intrudes on fiction
    a lady but crawls on my finger
    I stop writing the novel and
    write this stone instead

    1. carole johnston

      lady bug
      how life intrudes on fiction
      a lady bug crawls on my finger
      I stop writing the novel ans
      write this stone instead

  87. Linda Della Donna

    Pretend kitty pads softly from
    living room to kitchen. His
    velvet coat, the color of
    charcoal, shimmers in
    soft sunlight
    streaming through the uncurtained
    He meows, meows, meows.

  88. Inger-M

    Sunlight filters through the foliage, finds it’s way to some remaining fall colored grass straws. So thin, almost transparent, they let the sunlight right through.

  89. Marta NP, Poland

    the biggest paradox about All Saints Day
    you go to the cementary
    and light a candle in memory of those
    who passed away
    you meet only those who are
    still alive

    I keep watching a sleeping cat
    it is said that
    cats have nine lives

    I don’t think it’s fair enough

  90. Marta Pawlak

    the biggest paradox about All Saints Day
    you go to the cementary
    and light a candle in memory of those
    who passed away
    you meet only those who are
    still alive

    I keep watching a sleeping cat
    it is said that
    cats have nine lives

    I don’t think it’s fair enough

  91. Debbie Young

    The finest, whitest wires
    Arranged by nature like
    Two segments of a starburst,
    Curving above
    Your gazing amber eyes.
    Why have I never noticed
    before today?
    My cat has eyebrows!

  92. NanLeah

    Writers Rite
    Striving. Passion. Starts and stops. Who’s speaking? Mother suffering, encompassed by noise pollution. Bible characters – Jacob, Paul, Mary. Twin female murderer who…? Zombies-Are they cannibals? Questions sing. Souls bared, Love grows. Writers write.

  93. Kirsty Stanley

    I started NaNoWriMo today which is what inspired my small stone (already shared on the Facebook event)

    Stepping stones into a new world
    fingers on keys.
    As my characters’ eyes open
    so does my mind,
    adventure awaits.

  94. Christine de Jong

    147 stones I counted……will read them all attentively again……..lovely global attempt….!
    With love to all…..

  95. Paula Balfe

    These leaves are currency –
    copper, brass – musty pockets of loose change.
    And time spent.

  96. Jamieson Wolf

    The lights were bright
    like fireflies. The traffic
    moved by so quickly
    in the dark. Each light
    was bright one moment
    and faded the next, as if
    the fireflies were all
    flying away.

  97. Ross

    The sound of my wife’s alarm goes off at 6:30. I wait for her to hit the snooze button for one of many times. My dog, Harley lies next to me on the couch snoring softly during my daily meditation practice. I hear the sound of the clock, tick, tick, ticking. I stop for a moment to pet Harley. He stretches and then rolls over to his back in perfect trust and invites me to stroke his stomach. Morning rituals, the day begins.

  98. Charlotte Meares

    Wrapped to endure hell, the drop-front secretary, the clever sofa table from my mother and the ebony bedside cabinet are puzzle pieces inside the 18-wheel moving van headed to my first-born, fifteen-hundred miles away. Secreted high above book boxes, almost touching the roof of the truck, a tall dish-pack (yellow sticker number 312) shouts, “Trust me.” The heavy steel door severs the umbilical chord. In the cold brightness, separated from her grandmother’s plates, cups and saucers–“Fragile,” I reminded–I’m fixed on the long rectangle until it is nothing more than an orange speck.

    1. Jackie Harris

      Beauifully written and very, very moving without being slushy. Have you written other things?

  99. Vandana Sharma

    My small stone :-

    “Come winter and life will be iced,
    Into small moments it will be spliced,
    Lets enjoy it , before everything turns white.”

    Thank you very much.

  100. Cara Hart

    a neon tie dye sunset- pink, and shrinking- glows behind the blackened silhouettes of thin stretched-cotton clouds. the haze of an autumn burn crawls across bare, stubbled fields in unfurling fingers, scenting the chill air with a hard, bitter, stinging musk. it’s a subtle aroma, perceived in hints; the kind that makes you close your eyes and turn your nose into the wind, breathing deep.

  101. Judi Sillifant

    A very handsome, large toad, all gnarled and knobbly waddles down the driveway. Oh, the sudden urge to kiss his head.

  102. Jessica Szt

    I sit over my cup of morning tea. The gas heater in the background is roaring, working hard to warm my house.
    My heart is still warm from last nights gathering with friends. Hope the warmth will stay for a while.

  103. Rachael

    Withered leaves hang
    From this broken branch
    Creases like folds in chocolate silk

    Sorry it’s late! had to wait for my toddler to nap :-/

  104. annettealaine

    Mighty sycamore~
    marble trunk,
    flecked branches~
    inner beauty revealed
    in your unclad state.

  105. Lanita A

    Because today, I couldn’t choose just one…
    SS 11/1 –

    All In A Day

    -6 eyes hesitate to open
    -Iodine stained skin, and gauze bandages
    -A new plea in an old prayer
    -The rear-view mirror vibrates with bass
    -“0 miles to empty” into the driveway
    -A furry, pawed arm through the sleeve of a newborn sweatshirt
    -Laughing out loud… alone
    -Shaved Ibarra: hints of canela and cocoa in my coffee
    -With polish, tarnished brass plating becomes shiny chrome once again
    -At the studio; little girls with grown-up moves
    -Butter melts into the creamy starch of a skin-salted baked potato
    -A cluster of bodies in my bed – warm with blood flow and love
    -Rite Aid – 10 minutes, 20 labels, 1 active ingredient
    -Nerves clench tense with empathy
    -2 hands touch in a temporary, settled-for, fraction of physical intimacy
    -Down pillows, and a well worn quilt – ending where we began

  106. Jennifer Crook

    With all the infectious joy of a 5-year old she cavorted through the fields, wind-blown and laughing. “Run!” she shouted. And caught by a sudden gust of exuberance, I did.

  107. Ken macquarrie

    nestled amongst the warmth of family, I watch outside as winters downy comforter unfurls once again as white feathers of pure magic.

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