trail in the sand

Treasure map

The ghost of the Dread Pirate Roberts hovered over the beach. Buried deep in the dunes, tucked away for centuries, his ill-gotten Spanish doubloons. The imprint from his wooden peg leg, the only part of him still manifested in material world, left a telltale sign of his passing. A trail of uniform dimples across the…

exposed tree roots

Monument to time

We are bare framework standing immobile against the elements. Bleached white like the bones of a long dead dinosaur, our roots run deep, anchoring us to the earth. We are a monument to perseverance, endurance, unbending stubbornness. There is beauty in our austerity. Stripped of all outer trappings, we withstand the ages, adversity and tragedy.…

doorway to abandoned home


I remember the day you carried me over that threshold. You held my heart in your hands, my love and my dreams. We promised in sickness and in health. The sickness came so hard and quick. The rains stopped falling and the earth blew away, taking all our hopes along with it. The desolation seeped…

city street

Street scene

The largest city I’ve lived in was Knoxville, TN. I was there, practically downtown, for three years while attending the University of Tennessee. I could literally walk anywhere I wanted to go. Saturdays were for sports. We made the Vol walk to Neyland Stadium on home game weekends with what seemed like the entire student…

crank window

Trapped inside

Yellow nicotine stains the glass, giving my world a jaundice hue. She took the cranks to keep me from opening the windows. That didn’t stop me though. I worked my fingers bloody on the metal cogs, just for a little breeze, and to see the deep green of the trees outside. Even with the jalousies…

no trespassing sign

Hundred Acre Wood

Saturday, I wandered around trails at Blackwater River State Park near Holt. The recent rains made everything extra soggy, so I was grateful for the beam boardwalks wending through the woods. And… yes, I did execute my best Olympic gymnast dismount arm flourish when I reached the end of each segment without falling off into…

phone pole bulletin board

Old news

News is fleeting, soon enough Passing into the realm of myth. Pen to paper, words made real. Town crier proclaiming truths, Forgotten once they leave his lips. Posted where the world can see Held up to public scrutiny With iron and steel, Until the wind changes, Another scrap of news posted.