From Oren’s palm a small bird flew out. Small as a bee, the three spotted falcon grew to its actual size as it winged it way above the crowd.
Category: Poetry
This Textured Darkness, #43
“I was marked by Jah when I placed my hand on the rock,” said Oren.
“The scar seems like a living thing,” remarked Fulcruchen.
This Textured Darkness, #42
“While you were tending garden, I was a man fighting in the foothills of High North.”
This Textured Darkness, #39
The boy’s name was Jessum and it gave him deep joy to see Elymas unsettled.
The Facts of Life (A Harshbarger Mills Story, p.3)
“Get the ants!” he shouted. This was his payback. I was pulling double duty for being late. I’d collected the ants yesterday, too.
This Textured Darkness #38
“My critical powers,” said the King, “though still intact, are limited by endurance. My councilor will read for me.”
This Textured Darkness, #37
‘Hand the parchment over,” said Ranald. “I’ve struggled with thoughts of my own death long enough.”
This Textured Darkness, #36
The King reached for the blue feather like a dying man reaches for hope.
The Facts of Life, part 2 (A Harshbarger Mills Story, 1960’s)
Mother shoved aside the Electrolux like a discarded dance partner.
This Textured Darkness, 35
The eyes of the King see you, the ears of the King hear you, the words of the King, bless you.
