After the storm

After the storm The scenes and sentences dislodged, brought the ring and rat-a-tat. The ladder walked past, did not stop to receive the repairman. There was a ready welcome, prepared since the disturbance, to re-set three tiles. The blue door climbed the roof. — Twitter Facebook

An overdose of summer

Soft to the thumb, the pear I sliced was gone. It was rotten inside. In a wither of ruffles the rose-heads have browned dry in the heat. They sodden after it’s stormed. Even the blowflies ferocious have stopped their wings, landed their green torpedoes for the last time. Something from lunch churns in my stomach