the leaves were unsettled by the whisper of unseen forces. the currents of wind took them by surprise and bullied them out of their peace on the sidewalk, forcing them to fly, dance, stumble until they were scattered once more. the green ones tried to resist but those crisp with age realized that there are no options and surrendered immediately and soared high with unintentional grace, too tired to fight, to question. the baby turns over on the bed, the boy hits a ball with a bat, the aunt finds out she has a tumor in her womb. above their heads the moon rises, the tide swells, and we are swept along, turning brown at the edges.
*prose
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6 comments:
A beautifully written metaphor.
"the baby turns over on the bed, the boy hits a ball with a bat, the aunt finds out she has a tumor in her womb. above their heads the moon rises, the tide swells, and we are swept along, turning brown at the edges."
That was my favourite part, such contrasts between the moments experienced by others. I really enjoyed reading your prose poem.
Wow- you did this in 5 minutes? I am very impressed- so deep and so profound...
I did not expect those last lines, but I loved the surprise. The insight here is gorgeous.
"those crisp with age realized that there are no options and surrendered immediately and soared high with unintentional grace"
Oh, this is beautiful.
How metaphorical! Unexpected ending. A pleasure to read.
You too can chk my post, Ambrosial.I would welcome critical comments for this prompt.
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