PRETTY FLOWERS He elbowed his way through the clumped and crowded streets and along the neon-lit avenue, knowing that all the stashed-away wisdom in the world could not protect the heart from sorrow. A great fog had entered the city during the night and completely covered Manhattan Island. The fog, so low, not even the tops of five story tenements could be seen from the sidewalks. The gray, so bleak, haunted his mind, cracked his spirit—he could feel its pressure—bending his back. He headed for Rowboat Lake in Central Park to try and nurture his mind. The fire ball peeked above the horizon. A clump of ducks strolled out from the bushes, greeted the new day, started to waddle towards the water as, quietly, the sun rose and began to suck away the morning mist. The breeze gently hummed, trees murmured softly, a gang of birds bloomed up from across the lake, made a 180 degree turn and spotted the, newly painted, pink-crimson dawn. Like a leaf aslant on the wind his mind floated freely. Suddenly she was standing before him Her eyes were bottle-blue portals, he was touched by her essence, he could feel it in his chest; and, by the trustworthiness in those blues, he was overcome and tumbled into them. With his poorly fed heart he could feel the bloated gray cloud begin to lift from his shoulders. They sat together on a bench, he stared into the eyes of nature, and watched the pretty flowers spew forth their fragrance. Copyright September, 2014 Dennis John Ferado My first book of poetry & short stories, TIME ON HAND, will be published before the end of September. Published by Soul Asylum Poetry and Publishing of Canada and by Ken Cowle. Ken is a poet, recording engineer, radio personality, creative talent and the heart and soul of Soul Asylum. Thank you for all you have done and continue to do for all your people, Ken.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 16:38:13 +0000
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