Autumn
We hope to maintain life’s vibrant verdant greens and rich reds, but death prevails. Beaten, we suck bitter amber liquid from glass bottles in honor of fallen comrades -- road dust on our worn-out boots, tanned arms and faces hard as leather, our dried corncob pipes cradling russet tobacco.
4 comments:
good stuff...
This is so melancholy, and beautiful.
Gorgeous piece, Ginger!
Thanks, guys. I had this weird dream where my ancestors told me all this (?) family history. There was so much of it that it was impossible for me to remember it all, and in my dream they began associating each story with a color or colors.
When I awoke, I immediately typed everything I could remember. Some of it was, well let's say it was very odd...
Anyway, that same day I decided I wanted to write something that concentrated on the color brown and its relationship to autumn. This flash was the result. -- GHC
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