Falling Stars

Meteors flash across Cygnus 

They trail light 

One by one

They come alone

My eyes meet theirs

Wishes don’t come

Thoughts aren’t there

Worlds away from me

Hope is a kid’s game

Like the other stars 

We stand quietly 

Together but apart

Why I notice isn’t why

What’s noticed is why

Dust falls as strangers

We think they were stars

Darkness appears as light

In falling stars fading


“You, why are you moving so fast?” His teenage eyes look upon me. 

I look confused.   His sixteen year old eyes and girlfriend smile back. 

“I’m not moving that quickly.” I justify my pace.   He knows little of time.

“You’re flying, at your age….well you could have a heart attack.” he laughs.

I smile back.   To be so young and foolish. “Your next hour, is longer than my whole day!  I turn my head and sunset is on my shoulder.   For you, hours holding her hand pass slowly.   It lulls you to think you have forever.”

They look at a madman. They don’t know. How could they know?  They still smile at me but differently. 

“You’ll see.   Time isn’t your friend. You’ll see! ” I return to my path.   My speed still faster than it should.   But time is fleeing from me.  I know it is.   If I can catch a few moments…

Wordle #258 Ocean Spray

The crashing tide cast a spell with the first smell of salt water. It calls out.  Branches of white water makes trip skyward. It spins and looks back before dissolving into the ocean.  The vote for nature’s beauty gives many choices. 

Buffalo Hunt

You’ll find full guidelines on the TLT page – here’s the tl;dr:

  • Write three lines inspired by the photo prompt (& give them a title if possible).
  • Link back to this post.
  • Tag your post with 3LineTales (so everyone can find you in the Reader).
  • Read and comment on other TLT participants’ lines.
  • If you want your post to be included in the round-up, you have until Sunday evening to publish it.
  • Have fun.

Happy three-lining!


The sun warmed the prairies surrounding the Greasy Grassy River, the bison entered the valley looking for fresh grazing opportunities.  A single scout came down from the ridge hurriedly toward the battle chiefs tipi. 

“Tonight, we light up our tents to show our white brothers we are far too many to attack during game the hunt.”  Crazy Horse smiles knowing Custer is a dead man.



Born on the Wind

I came from the dust

I travel haphazardly

My domain is within my sight

Baggage is what I carry

A light load is freedom

Roads traveled to memories

No need for want if you’re free

Chains are made of material things

The wind changes because it can

No bounds will ever hold it fast

Time matterrs not to the breeze

It’s heart beat is it’s movement

Stillness, a death sentence

Legacy, a,tombstone 

Those born on the wind

Have no need to understand

Tale Weaver #78 – Countdown 


He looks at his phone.   We’re two minutes late already.   The trains never run late, not two minutes.  He tugs at the ball cap pulling it down a bit more.   The urge to look side to side is overwhelming. Inventory of the surroundings becomes a bigger need add time goes by. 

The backpack lists a bit to the right.  The contains weren’t as secure add they should be.  The drill isn’t going well.  

“Where’s the train?” He mumbles.

“There’s a hold up down the line.  It’ll be here momentarily.” An officer stares through him.  

His eyes don’t meet the officers.   They shift to the phone to confirm the train is still late. “It should have been here already.   I’m going to be late.   Are you sure it’s still coming?” He offers.

“There’s a scare.   Someone called in a threat.   Dark clothes, backpack, you know it takes a while to find those types.” The officer replies walking in front of him. “You know maybe like you….”

He looks at the officer.   The officer’s dark eyes, cropped hair and clean cut face is tight as a drum.  Displeasure his expression. 

“Sir? I’m not sure what you mean.” He replies.   He struggles not to breath, or breath too quickly.  He feels doubt.  His mission was simple.

“The backpack!  Let’s see it!  ID, I need that too!” The officer puts out his left hand,hid right hand tests on butt of his gun. 

“I’m a currier.  Here’s the backpack.  My ID is in the front!”  He hands off the pack and backs away.

The officer stares dead through him.  Never acknowledging the backpack.  He twists his head towards his shoulder.   “I have suspect.  I have secured the bag. Will holdfor back up.”

“It’s costing me $50.  I was supposed to be at drop off at 2.  They’re giving me a bonus for being early ” He talks, thinking of back up. His hands find themselves up. 

“Who? Who is giving you this $50?”  The officer asks smiling.   He knows the answer.   In his heart he feels it. 

“The guy is addressed to.   My boss, said the guy pays cash….all the time…$50 is big!” He replies.

“You’re going to meet someone you don’t know the name of…… and you get more money….. if you hurry…But don’t know his name?!  You see why I don’t believe you.”  The officer smiles still “we have you on tape.   We counted down the minutes to get you.   You can’t hide from us…ever!”


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unstoppable/”>Unstoppable</a&gt;


It hides

Intentions disguised

Rolling like a bowling ball

Plans and hopes make for pins 

What if? 


How could it? 

Drill into the soul

Striking more pain

Substance need not apply

Insecurity flexes muscle

While paralysis watches

Shadowy landslides blind it victim

Once set in, doubt is unstoppable

Event 2

The yips of a coyote pair awaken me.  There’s comfort in their cry.  Nature has won a victory albeit temporary or permanent.  Her voices speak in many languages.  Listening would have been great along.  Too many things get in the way.   Cars, radios, TV’s ran out the gentle sounds to the wilderness.  They have returned subdued.

An owl moves closer.  Hoots become language.   The Horned Owl repeats “Who cooks for you?”  The great wings silently rearrange his perch.  He calls out endlessly.  He knows I’m here.  We sense each other.  He knows people bring mice, squirrels, and others dinner items.  I’m lost in his world.   

A sudden metallic chunk rattles my hiding spots.  My perch is the dormer of a burnt out house.  I overlook my real home.  I’m afraid someone has discovered my metal, it’s what underneath I need to protect. Eyes crawl through the outline of chaos.  Pickets of metal twist into part circus tent, part mountain range. 

It’s a dog. A no good mangy mutt.  One sound the damn thing will start barking.  Everybody will think there’s stuff here. I’d rather have a person here.  I could shot a person.  One more body for the pile.  But if I miss the damn thing, too much attention. Under a crescent moon,its just another scavenger.

Part 1