Bones (an acrostic poem)

Image: oldsouthfirearms.com/images/products/detail/stained_bone_dice_newnw.jpg

Been shaking the pair in my hand and wondering

Obviously the way they land is random

Now that wasn’t an appealing thought

Every ounce of him wanted to believe in luck, that now was his time

So when they came up snake eyes, he knew he had been right

Flood (an acrostic poem)

 

Flowing water piled on top of flowing water

Leaving the water underneath it even wetter

Overwhelming the earth’s ability to contain the fluid assault

Obliterating the concept of dry land

Determined to not let an ark survive this time

 

Image: ready.gov/sites/default/files/2020-04/Flooded-neighborhood_1.jpg

Cold Bones (a 200 word story)

The corpse of the barn lay upon the snow swept field, its sun bleached bones exposed to the elements.  Carter shrugged off his backpack and gently sat down in the snow.  He stared at the remains and wondered when the farmer had given up on the land upon which the barn sat, or had the farmer been committed back to the fertile soil and no one new had picked up the calling.

Carter pulled out his sketch pad and removed his gloves.  He began drawing, using his snow pants encased legs as a cushioned desk.  The cold wind attacked his fingers, causing them to both ache and become frustratingly numb.  This made Carter smile.  It helped him capture the barn in its death throes.  Soon Carter had to admit that was as much as he could do in these conditions and he put away his picture.  With one look around, he tried to capture the rest of scene for adding to his picture back in his warm studio.  Mission accomplished, he began snow shoeing home.  This physical workout had turned into a mental one as well, and that warmed Carter’s heart.  Now just if his fingers would do the same.