All Posts By: Byron McCoy
MUSE OF THE MISSOURI
They walked together Ninth and Main as the evening sun fell low; its line of sight brilliant and bright, broken in rayed and scattered light, long shadows cast down corridor of the city street. In center of road, a statue stood, and of it he took notice, amazed, how art—like world and trees […]
WORKDAY’S END
Tractor ran in combine’s trail, and dust from the threshing rose and obfuscated sun as smoke and sky of smoldering flame. He tried to see but was blind in its cast, and stepping out, he choked on the dust, coughing to clear, little different than in world on fire. In […]
NEW WORD
“I learned a new word the other day,” he shared. “I learned it backwards—and I cheated. I thought of a definition, description, and wondered what the word would be. So I sought and found an answer.” “What made you search?” she asked. “Pictures of paintings of flowers that didn’t […]
CANDLE’S BURN
For a week now, I’ve burnt a candle of my Granny’s. I light it when I read, when I pray, and when I write. In a week’s time, it is nearly gone. For years now, I’ve burnt other candles—prayer candles contained in safe glass vases, who burn within themselves—flame contained by limit of air […]
SMALL STREAM FLY FISHING
Sitting on porch, I’m “peopled out.” It’s been a good day. I’m tired—but not yet ready for sleep. I tried to relax—watch a little football—but I’m learning (and accepting) that I am old and really don’t care all that much for new and the way things change. I used to be able to watch college football […]