Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Life (06/15/06)
TITLE: A Slice of Life
By Val Clark
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dawn and finally the cold penetrates her awareness.
A pathway of light stretches out to the horizon and meets
the setting moon. She imagines Peter walking along
that highway to the horizon.
What would it be like to love the Master so much?
One minute you are in the boat. The next
walking on water.
Sad face turned always towards
us. Reflecting light waxing and waning.
Cheese. Mice. Cows. The moon drowns
on its endless course around
the earth. She shakes her head and waits. Waits
for the moment she has come for. Dare she hope
it will thaw not just her body but
Damp seeps up through the tussock of grass. Through
the wool of her coat. Into the fibers of her jeans.
She wiles away the moments changing the shape of
the cloud that is one with her shallow breath.
A slither of pink ghosts that place where
sky and sea meet. The moment is
imminent. She shifts slightly, wondering why
it is not as hot on rising as it is at its zenith. Briefly
she regrets those years of daydreamed science lessons.
But only briefly. Knowledge, she knows, is only
a modem away. Though it is not a spectacular rising,
she is not disappointed. The huge orange orb lifts
effortlessly up from the waters.
She hears the music and a tiny sigh escapes her numb
Others have come to observe or not to.
They walk or run or jog purposefully to private iPod tunes.
Feet pound. Blood pumps. She envies their energy, admires
A silhouette bends to examine the dumping ground of receding
waves. Pockets a tiny treasure. A bark. Comet tails streaming,
two dogs chase each other with
She abandons her tiny tussock.
Feels her heart beat faster at the sudden movement.
Lets the feeble light caress her chapped face.
The walk home is short.
Within her walls all is still. Her ancient dog turns
an apologetic rheumy eye. She massages behind its ears, murmuring
soft words of comfort. She stands at each door hoarding
the memory of sweet faces. Guarding herself against
the grief they bring each day to her heart. In the shadow
she watches her husband stretch his hand out to still
the alarm. She pulls back slightly as he beats on
the light switch. There is the book. The words blaze across
her mind: <i>The best thing parents can do for their kids
She strips off her gloves.
Shrugs off her coat.
Hangs them up.
Turns to the kitchen. Silently opens the cutlery drawer.
<i>Father, work in our hearts a miracle
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