Cold dew on grave moss
something moves where light once fell.
Crows refuse to cry.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
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Becca
"Everything is so... flat." Denille said stupidly as she looked around her new neighborhood. She looked around at the muted desert where even the smallest sign of life seemed to have given up. The plant life was shrubs that were half cooked by the heat and where there should have been a lawn, a mess of white rocks laid glistening in the sun. Even the sky looked stretched thin, like the sun had ironed it smooth. She’d moved from Riverside, where at least there were hills, but here in Barstow, everything felt baked and brittle.
By Sara Wilson7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I think this haiku is an excellent entry in this challenge, Tim. It's a haunting of a beautiful kind, and I can't stop reading it.🌹