the wind
conspires
with detritus
whispers the word
on the street

nimbostratus
silences and covers
the scene

we forget and sleep

---

Excerpt from the Wisp ...*

An invisible curtain hung, isolating the diners from one another. They ate in an oak-paneled dining room, at a long oak table—a very long, oak table. Three of the four middle leaves were missing. It was still too big for the three of them. Templeton Cavanagh sat at one end with his new wife to his right, his daughter to his left. To Bara, her father felt miles away, her stepmother far too close. There was only one saving grace, a large fall-themed center-piece. Bara slouched and hid her face behind the orange tiger lilies and bright red mums.

Courtney shifted so she could see around the flowers.
“Do you like the roast?” she asked.

Bara nodded but said nothing. Her dislike for Courtney only grew when she was in her presence, with her perfectly-coifed hair, pink cashmere sweater set, and matching chiffon scarf. Blah! Courtney always wore pink. Bara never wore pink and not because she was almost a redhead. Pink, she thought, an insipid shade of red. The girl color. Why not just wear a sign that said walk all over me? I’m vulnerable and weak?

Without a doubt, pearls would have suited the cashmere Courtney wore. Bara’s mother always wore pearls. Courtney had chosen a simple locket. It was dark silver, but not actually silver. Maybe iron? Large and heavy, it was clumsy looking on her slender neck. Courtney toyed with the chain and then looked to her husband. He gave her a reassuring smile. She reached below the table. Her hands reappeared with a pale pink box tied with a bright fuchsia ribbon. A little too excitedly, she pushed the box across the table. “I was shopping this afternoon,” she explained. “And I found this wonderful bookstore.”

Bara put down her fork and eyed the box suspiciously. She sighed and removed the lid to reveal a leather-bound edition of the Magician’s Nephew. She knew the story well.

“I hope you like C.S. Lewis.” Courtney chimed happily, sensing her pleasure.

Bara was pleased. Then she remembered how her mother had read the story to her, years ago. No way was she going to accept this book from Courtney, the woman who—as far as Bara was concerned—had broken her family in two. No way!

Courtney was still smiling when Bara thrust the book back across the table again. “I already have a copy,” Bara said brusquely. “Maybe you can get your money back.”

She returned to eating. Courtney rose from the table.
“I’ll see to dessert,” she said and left the room.

Templeton went to scold Bara. She turned to him and he softened. The look in her eyes. She needs more time.

*The Wisp is available in digital and paperback; link below