Shadows and Glimpses


My limbs flailed like a marionette’s, haphazard but precise on the batons. The bells chaotically announced daybreak, competitive siblings clamoring for attention.

In my twilight, silence surrounds me. I gaze at the belfry; the ring still reverberates inside me, my private reveille.



I stopped mid-gallop.  “Blame my dad.”  His booming baritone soared, a nightly ritual while drawing the tub.

Our bath is too narrow for bucking bronco rides.  Instead we circle the downstairs where my William Tell Overture wilts in the hallway’s unforgiving acoustics.

From the Podium

I promised the quintet I would keep perfect time.  They held their rhythm steady until the percussion swelled below.  Only one rushed ahead, succumbing to the push of the new meter.  The five reunited as the drums faded.

My baton never faltered.

Kindred Spirits

The ancient cypress shelters the barren hillside pasture, shrouding our playground in shadows.  Somersaults and log rolls dance in the dust as wind whispers our secrets.  Three mounds sift through my fingers into the darkness below, interring my heart forever with yours.

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