Scribe Writing Prompt — Sand — On the beach that morning, the sand felt cool and soft, almost swallowing my small feet as I ran to catch the ball my father threw to my brother and me. I still recall the scene from so many years ago — ocean waves glistening silver, the sun, a little above the…

A vision of Eden — They appear at dawn, as quiet as ghosts, soft-stepping through pink Tamarisk, one by one sauntering to the banks of the silver river —  wild horses, muzzles dipping deep in clear snow-melt flowing from far off peaks. Many-colored horses — the shine of their coats, curve of their heads, like the Spanish…

A daughter’s wish — I often hear your voice — while washing dishes, grocery shopping, walking the dog, or lying awake at midnight — you’re speaking to me in our mother tongue. When I grew up, I began to answer you in my second language, perhaps the first evoked too many fraught memories of a childhood with a…

Reflection on the past reveals unexpected gifts — It held an armful of black-eyed-susans once, the glazed blue vase we bought to celebrate our first year together. Broken and dulled with time, it caught me by surprise, rummaging through my closet of forgotten mementos. I remember when those shards lay on the floor — how I tried to…

Five springs have passed… — She always loved the gift of daffodils. Those soft sunny cups could coax happiness even on the darkest days. My mother called them, Maerzenbecher* —  they were her wedding flowers. In my bookcase, the young couple framed forever in black and white — she, suited in gray, clutching her bouquet of…

Scribe Writing Prompt — On the Road to Spring — Beneath a white patchwork quilt, daffodils and snowdrops lie furled in her fertile womb. Legions of seeds bide their time and slumbering in the catacombs, bumblebee queens dream of spring’s sweet fare. Earth’s mysterious face peeks through a luminous veil. Enchanted, the sun king lingers longer each day, a lover who can’t pull himself…

A second chance for love — Once upon a time, she bought herself a gift, a whimsical work of art, a unique charm held by a black silk cord that rested just over her beating heart. In the miniature shadowbox, a red tinfoil heart, pierced with a silver arrow, floated in a blue mesh sky, flecked with gold confetti stars, that…

A narrative poem — She’s playing hide and seek again — hasn’t been spotted in over a week. There are things I want to tell her, I bet you do too. You might have spied her wandering the night, or even the day, when she appears like the sun’s pale understudy. …

Of a most unusual kind — I I’m spellbound — watching her, on the blue screen, in the blue ocean. Sporting three hearts, a cephalopod with panache, jetting through the kelp. The scene changes, the music builds. A fierce battle ensues, over in a few seconds. …