morning tea

The first sip of a cooled-off cup of  tea tastes like a sticky summer morning with a lingering scent of fresh cut grass.

rain

i have deleted, erased and hovered over the keys just to write the word rain.

urban studio

silence, then drilling, then silence, then my brain simulates the drilling noise against the walls of my skull.

chattering words

i read and re-read as the Olympic sportscasters chatter in the background, i continue wallowing in the dead poets words, determined to understand her.

motion sickness

my cafe stool sharply rocked with each sip, by the bottom of my cup of coffee I had an unpleasant case of motion sickness.

frightened fish

she landed face first flat on the ice, she frightened the fish.

running

i want to stop the car and run across the soybean field until I loose my breathe.