All Posts By: Byron McCoy
PARK’S EDGE
In coffee shop at park’s edge, they met and shared of life. $7.38 for cup of coffee—it was small price to pay to see a friend with whom there would be no reason to meet again. In autumn season, sun’s later rise, the morning light shone golden. It’s beam, shade-lined and formed by […]
HOLE IN THE STREET
What will people say of our present time when none of us, but relics of our human-moment, remain? If we bomb—or simply unculture—ourselves back to the Stone Age, what will be made of a combine? Will it be a giant insect, still possessive of its exoskeleton, of materials unlike any […]
PARABLE OF THE VINEYARD
“Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people: ‘Hear another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenants and went on a journey. When vintage time drew near, he […]
NEAR TO STORM
She rested on beach, reclined in chair, watching her children in the surf. Bright-clear of sky, sun high above, she watched the waves slow-rise, then roll and crash, breaking into foam. Her children played in low-height swells, gleeful in waves lift and rise in height along their open legs; sound of the crash, then […]
HABIT
“One day I’ll break this habit…” she speaks to me in dark, eyes closed and half-asleep. She doesn’t want to move, and though I stir, I allow her to be, “…of needing you to wake me.” 6:30, waking time, she wants another five minutes. I respect and leave, will return when asked, but […]