First breath under Sun
Nurturing rain, winds of time
In earths womb seeds wait
I wanted to express the journey of a tree, similar to that of we humans. In the grand scheme of things it is brief, so lets make the most of it.
About the Creator
Jason Basaraba
I have enjoyed writing for most of my life, never professionally.
I wish to now share my stories with others, lets see where it goes.
Born and raised on the Canadian Prairies, I currently reside on the West Coast. I call both places home.
Keep reading
More stories from Jason Basaraba and writers in Poets and other communities.
Red
The fur on the inch of old, cold coffee is grey. The daybreak scratching at Bly’s window is grey, a sleepless night hangs grey from her eyes. Do something. Her thoughts are grey. Clean. Starts with the vacuum, but the bag is full. So empty it. Bins are full. Empty them. Can’t think where the fresh liners are. Shower. Water runs cold, only a glassy shave of soap left. Scum in the dish is grey. Tiles are grey, cold and grey.
By Lauren Everdell5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Wonderful, Jason 🙂