WIND

 

The wind loves to dance in the trees, long tendrils brushing against the leaves. The wind’s voice is a howl or a gentle whisper, tugging at clothes, flowers, puppies, and hats. 

It creates a whistle that hurries around tall buildings, impatient and busy, as though it has somewhere to go. We are not sure where it is headed. 

Wandering, restless, and bold, it sweeps plastic bags that dance like ghosts at intersections during rush hour. 

The wind carries air from distant places, far-off lands, ancient history, and secrets—here one minute, gone the next. 

Georgia

Bunnies in the Snow

 

Bunnies zoom down snowy hills on leaf sleds, laughter filling the crisp, cold air. Their hats and scarves barely stay on as they race, transforming the forest into a playground of powdery snow. A spirited snowball fight breaks out among the bunnies, who giggle and dodge snowballs under the warm sunlight.

 

As the sun sets, the tired bunnies snuggle together in their burrows, sipping hot chocolate in front of a crackling fire. The wise old owl sings a magical melody, and deep in the serene, snow-covered forest, the bunnies feel calm and safe, ready to wake up and play again tomorrow.

Georgia

New Snow

 

I love the sounds of new fallen snow

Everything is quiet until

You hear your feet crunching

You stop walking and the silence is back

The snow has put a cushion of quiet

Over everything until

Squirrels scamper and their bushy tails

Make a brushing sound across the snow

A family of racoons moves one behind the other

Making a pat, pat, pat sound as they march in line

Toward the next best place to play in the snow

The snowflakes blow through the air

Given a lift by the wind circling through the trees

They look like cotton candy sugar before it is spun

Listen for yourself, go for a walk in the woods

The new snow will reveal its sounds to you, too

Ellen

Red Heart

 

February 14th-candy colored heart reflections flashing in puddles. Red heart balloons, Couples clinging together on crowded sidewalks. Scent of roses, whispered promises, laughter and wine. February wind carries far away sound of love songs. Greeting cards

Some walk alone, brokenhearted, tears.

Love is messy, fleeting, intoxicating, flowing towards the end of the day, uncontained, yet profoundly tender, comforting a tired heart, caring, with long lasting healing.  

 Georgia

The Stranger on the Train

 

There once was a story told about a subway train that ran from Middle Ground Hills, Brooklyn to downtown Manhattan. This train was known to have a large ridership and also it was well known for making several stops at certain undesirable stations.

One evening during rush hour, two men sitting next to each other bumped bodies when the train made a short stop. One man, who realized the train had caused the bump went back to reading his Kindle. Unfortunately, the other man, who was not in his right mind, took the bump to mean an altercation and quickly pulled out a knife and stabbed the man reading his book several times.

The stabbing was life ending and the man slumped over his Kindle. Before he died, his mind raced with thoughts of his wife, home and his baby triplets. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave them. He tried so hard to hold on, but death’s fingers were reaching for his soul. This conflict between death and staying alive caused the man’s soul to wind up in limbo where all spirits like his find themselves.

After this terrible tragedy, all day and throughout the night, this man’s spirit rides the train. He sits in the same seat, looking around anxiously, waiting for his stop so he can get home to hug his wife and babies. He doesn’t realize that time will never come because he is stuck between dimensions.

Several riders on the train say they have seen a stranger on the Middle Grounds line. It happens when the train lights flicker of go off briefly and they think they see a shadow or, sometimes, an outline of a man holding something in his hand. Others have seen a rounded outline of a face with a worried look.

Some say they’ve seen the stranger on the train, others say they haven’t. Regardless of which answer is given, not one of them will sit on the seat the man with the Kindle was sitting on that fateful night.

Ellen G.

Assignment: Musical Prompt - "Short Ride in a Fast Machine" - - John Adams

 

Short Ride in a Fast Machine illustrates a subway ride in the NYC transit system—relentless, rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks, sudden bursts of speed, flashing lights, and the exhilarating rush toward an unseen destination, lurching. Passengers thrown into each other’s personal space. Led lights shown on tired faces. Barely audible announcements. Smelly air, loud, another crazy spewing obscenity into the imaginary abyss, old newspapers, doors slam, people squeeze in and out, endlessly day and night.

Georgia

The Procession of Planets

 

The cold black winter night sky is crisp and clear. It is a black felt blanket infused with twinkling silver stars. Ptolemy’s Queen Cassiopeia, the mother of Andromeda and Queen of Ethiopia sails by confident in her beauty, followed by the courageous Orion the Hunter with his loyal companion Sirius the dog star at his heel.

Tonight, the stars are a backdrop to the headliners of the evening, the Planets with their continuous bright light streaming down to the awestruck observer.

Tonight, the Gods are at play, as the spheres have been racked up into an equilateral triangle and split with the cue ball moon rolling across the night sky at furiously fast speeds, each unique and with vastly different hues, compositions and properties. Each planet is resplendent in its individual orbit and characteristics, drawn to each other like a family at Thanksgiving but eager to spin off in their various directions, for their own purposes, when social norms, trajectories, and gravity permit.

Jim (Feb '25)

Winter Path in the Park

 

The wind took turns between crying softly and screaming loudly. Birds chirped endlessly amongst each other and memories of the sound of being in an overcrowded bingo hall came back to me in an instant. As I walked, ice patches shimmered, sparkled and danced throughout the glowing rays of sunlight.

As I continue to walk, snow crunches under my boots and I come upon children of all sizes, bundled up and wearing rosy, red cheeks.  Running around the frozen playground, they let out shrieks of delight and laughter as they chase each other round and around the jungle gym.  I can’t help but watch them and smile.

A cloud blocks out the sun and, suddenly, my mind pays attention to the chill I’m starting to feel in my body. Time to go.  Time to make my way back home to drink something hot and dive under a warm blanket!

Ellen