green, life, nature, photo, prose, woods, writing

Jumanji

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Random, careless. Trunks scattered helter skelter. You can’t help but wonder how it felt here when these tall trees came down. The ground shook, for sure. But look around. Saplings sprouting from felled logs. Leafy vines winding a tangled trail over it all. A beautiful, wild, living, thriving, Jumanji-style, bright green mess.

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etikser

life, personal writing, photo, photography, poem, prose, summer, writing

morning coffee on the back porch

etikser

your bothered sigh 
another day

a squeak 
a bang

sliding doors

nearby voices fading far
muffled jumble
meaningless words

engines and brakes 
thumps and car doors
invisible airplane overhead purr

a singular 
dispirited 
gnarling bark 

hums
buzz
someone’s busy outdoor chores

then

quiet
nothing
but wind and birds and bugs silence

til

a swishing  swirl
swiftly spinning  
bicycle wheels

one more sip, your final gulp
sun up sounds
summer’s day waking up

nature, personal writing, photo, prose, writing

day dreaming

etikser

So picture this….

Button down shirt, white jeans, bare feet. Surrounded by trees, the sound of birds and trickling water. Looking into Patrick Swayze’s eyes. His voice explaining how he got into dancing. 

He motions to you. Motions for you to join him. Out there, on the limb, over the creek. You think. No…. No…. No way…. 

Next thing you know, he pulls you up into in his arms. 

Perfect posture, your chin up, elbows raised, toes clinging to the scratchy bark. And then…you’re both smiling. Giggling. Doing goofy, silly, 60’s style dance moves. Forward and then backward. Along that log, over the creek.

memories

on the go

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not far from home
five miles or so

suddenly the car’s hotter
sky’s whiter,
brighter, hazier
like a different kind of summer
a long time ago

like I was ridin’ to work
to my first real job 

like I was in the middle of endin’ somethin’
that ended a long,
long while ago

funny the thoughts that pop in your head
when you’re out there
on the go

on that old familiar 
stretch of road

memories, summer

all in the smell of just cut grass

etikser

A sensory rush stocked with the stuff of long-forgotten whims.
A second to pause and hold onto the smell of summer and innocence.
Rolling down grassy hills.
At the bottom, a jumble of limbs.
Shaking stomachs and silly giggles.
Dress up play and make believe.
Bicycles, grass stains, and skinned knees.
Long warm days, staying out past dark
Capture-the-flag and Hide-n-seek
All in the smell of just cut grass