Ole!

On location in Puerto Vallarta. Please excuse grammatical or tense issues. Margaritas are part of all-inclusive. 😀🍹🍸🍺

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First Line Friday – Better After Sunset

In that moment, when flames licked the horizon and the sky burned with an orange glow, Taylor knew everything was going to be alright. An orange light washes over him. It feeld like a receding tide of stress relieving so many fears. The exhaling wind across the desert brings a taste of night’s chill. Taylor watches the blue fade to purple and then black. The truck’s headlights watches over the dry creek bed. The vast blanket of desolation buries any signs of life. His eyes search the horizons for traces. Satisfied there is nothing, he drives the truck down into the sand. The truck groans and lurches downward. Tires find rocks only to kick them up. A cloud forms illuminated by pale moonlight. It dances within a fading breeze. Taylor halts the truck where the creek once formed braids. It seems fitting to use the dead creek. His cargo needs not be found. Nor identified. He loosens the back of the trap to reveal a shovel. The sand gives easy. The headlights produce long growing shadows. The Earth opens wide to accept its prize. In the distance, calls of the night begin. The return of noise is partially unnerving. Distance is enough to restore the peaceful feeling. The moonlight plays with the senses. He back fills the hole quickly. His eyes scrub the shadows for movement. In a place with little respect to time, he begins to question if he overextended his stay. Quick feet find the path to his truck. An easy feeling resumes once he is inside. A deep breath and quick check of the mirrors calms down the pulse. Taylor starts up the truck. He drives across the disturbed sand a few times back and forth to smooth out the scene. Its perfectly staged now. Time to leave the place for civilization. Down a loose sand road another truck comes as he goes. Everything will definitely be alright in a few more miles.

FFAW – Simple Prayer

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dorothy. Thank you Dorothy!

“All these people. They just keep coming and coming.” Dennis looks down Temple Street.

His eyes follow his fellow worshippers across the tide of cars. Their smiles tiny beacons of holy light. He sees a child. Bolding running along racing the cars as they crawl by.

“When I was his age…there was traffic going both ways on the street. No waiting to pass across. No sounds of brakes squealing. No car horns trying to make go so much faster.” Dennis sighs.

His mind slows briefly. He is here to pray afterall. A little grace on his own part the body tells his restless mind. He thinks of the miracles upon his faith was built. This stream of faith pushing the scene from his current reality.

A soft beep of a horn rattles him.

A smiling face waves a hand to allow him passage in front of her. The next car halts and so does the third. The path to his enlightenment is clear.

Wordle #175 – Legendary Martinis

wordle222

1. constellations
2. irregular borders
3. woodcuts [Woodcut is a relief printing technique in printmaking. An artist carves an image into the surface of a block of wood—typically with gouges—leaving the printing parts level with the surface while removing the non-printing parts.]
4. martinis
5. spies
6. rule of thumb [a broadly accurate guide or principle, based on experience or practice rather than theory.]
7. calculus [ the branch of mathematics that deals with the finding and properties of derivatives and integrals of functions, by methods originally based on the summation of infinitesimal differences. The two main types are differential calculus and integral calculus|| a particular method or system of calculation or reasoning||a concretion of minerals formed within the body, especially in the kidney or gallbladder.]
8. glowing
9. puzzle
10. weather vane
11. savory [(of food) belonging to the category that is salty or spicy rather than sweet || having an appetizing taste or smell ||morally wholesome or acceptable.]
12. legendary

“The rule of thumb is no martini order skull be more difficult than calculus.” I explain to the bar maid.

Her glowing smile is a puzzle. Savory lips part as I spy the constellations in her eyes.

“How about our legendary martini?” she starts to move as if my choice had been made.

My eyes follow the dress made to look of woodcuts with irregular borders. I really don’t notice this color.

Her head turns back to catch my gaze.

Not weather vane needed to see a cold front moving toward me.

Sunday Whirl – Milling Dreams

Blindly wandering through the drizzle, my bad dream puts me in the middle of two hills. The gloom lifts to reveal a mill. I pause before I knock on the door. The door swings open. There stands a trim man dressed as a king.

My mouth opens but words fail to emerge.

Suddenly an alarm changes everything.

Reborn Upon the Night

Two hands break the surface

Ooze separating with uneven sound

Grey film clings until bits slip away

Hands grow to forearms

The moonlight cares little

Whistling wind picks up leaves

They dance an unsightly dance

Mirroring chaos as they scatter about

Hollow grunt spills upon the breeze

Forearms bear shoulders

Clouds stretch thin above

Howl pierces the darkness

Echoes seem disinterested in replying

Shoulders yield a head topped torso

Its form testing movement

Tasting escape upon the night

Decay reborn as embodiment

Our fears break free to run wild

It soft footsteps allow shadows to part

The gentle tap upon the shoulder

As sincere as the handshake