All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               “All I’m saying is be careful.”  He knew that she was going, and there was no changing when her mind and spirit were decided.  “It’s deer season again, and I don’t want your mother getting phone calls for her daughter wandering helpless in the woods.”                “I wasn’t helpless!” she responded in vehemence.  “I […]

               They walked the dry creek bed together in search and find of stones, each gathering in collect for other to give in offering and share as gift—flat, smooth stones with rounded edges to skip in cast and wish on dream over face of the pond above.                Sandstone and limestone, orange-brown and pale white-grey, […]

        Another day alone in field, he thought of mountain streams: rainbows in the riffles, flash of sides in swim holes and holds and steady course—move to fly in strike—bend of the rod taught of the line—take of the fish in run—his controlling of line’s give, in strips and spooling of the reel; […]

               In story, he saw again that which he thought gone—moments and memories believed lost in live of the evanescent.  By story, they returned—sights and see, sharp and clear, in live and new again: a child innocence, her merriment of mirth as she twirled in dance in open field and sun; the fan of her […]