Tag: Nature

New Orleans12 Comments

A Day In The Crescent

Zouxzoux

  It’s another balmy day in paradise. I push down the plunger in the French Press, inhaling the earthy aroma of the blackest of coffees called Community. The morning paper lies on the coffee table waiting for its unfolding, opening and adjusting shake. “Sneaking Sally Through The Alley” is dancing out of the Boze, WWOZ accommodating its listeners with the best music in the country, bar none. Noise from the street wafts through the open French doors: the rummmm-rummmm of the city bus, the high-pitched laughter of kids on Christmas break, the artificially cheerful greeting of “order when you’re ready!” … Continue reading A Day In The Crescent

New Orleans10 Comments

The Time In Between

Zouxzoux

It’s the day after Christmas and the rain falls, first a light mist just to get us used to it, then a steady falling like the currents of the river two blocks away. The air smells clean and wet, the birds are chirping and fluttering in the old pear tree – are they singing good wishes for the New Year as the rain washes away the doubts and regrets of the past to make way for the hopes and anticipation of the future? Or is it only my foolish daydreaming once again, wishing away reality. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Shared on dVerse Poets … Continue reading The Time In Between

New Orleans10 Comments

Wingless

Charlotte Hamrick

We watched for the return of the birds. The air around the house was silent and devoid of flutterings, a vacuum of tweets and whistles. What straggling flowers were left went hummingbirdless while twigs and string were just twigs and string with no hope of sheltering featherless offspring. It was strangely quiet, as though they were all sucked into a void somewhere and became dinosaurs again in another dimension. Kind of like our love, they were a wondrous memory for a time until slowly finding their way back home. Continue reading Wingless

New Orleans10 Comments

June

Zouxzoux

I want to run naked down a pier and dive into cold clear lake waters, engulfed in liquid exultation. I want to make bracelets of clover and stack them up my arms to the elbows, adorned with the nectar of grace. I want to drive down long twisted roads in the country with the windows down, the breath of shade and sun flowing coolness and warmth. I want to watch lightning bugs flash in the quiet of an evening, neon poke-a-dots against the earths’ closed eyes. I want to fill my lungs with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, light-headed and … Continue reading June