All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               They worked in the garden all afternoon under high of bright spring-sun.  On the wind, a cool remained.  Part work, part pleasure, part simply living time together, they labored in a common purpose, a common passion, a common joy; and, when efforts live such way, labor seemed as play.                Nearing to end, she […]

               Stories—it was how they spoke, way they shared: reading, learning, discerning one another.  What they chose to show, gave for other to read and see, their selves were in them all; pieces offered for construction to fuller see of puzzled selves.  In symbols, signs, and commonality of themes, there lived a resonance between—felt, know, […]

               “Love is not just looking at each other, it’s looking in the same direction.”—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry _____                Finger’s spread, deep rouge of tips’ in dig and press strong into sides of thighs, she held to him in brace and forward-face as they pulsed in rhythm-love.  Morning waking, spirit-making, love-praising in the dawn, they […]

               Ends of her fingertips shone painted rouge, deep of a red as romance hue that gleamed in shine and catch of candlelight in stemmed hold of flame, stilled in steady of burn beside.                Deep of the hue and flash of its gleam was striking in accent to fair of her hand.  It was […]