All Posts By: Byron McCoy

               “Don’t you love the way when energy seeks you as you are?  Speaks from a distance, speaks through signs, recognized through spirit and eyes; and maybe it appears for all, but you know that it’s for you—somehow, some way, whether or not you can explain?                Don’t you?  I do.” _____                She read […]

               They loved with door and windows open, cool of linger from last March-storm reaching full into heart of room, gray of a mist and sodden sky that carried still the songs of birds in wake, and in center of the oaken home, they lain together in blanket wrap; cool of the storm, scents that […]

        She was beautiful in afternoon, in sky that overcast in cloud and moving in of front; that on the wind carried spring-scent and verdure’s awake to life anew.         Even the bare ground blossomed.  Before her, on patch of earth that saw no sun in summer’s shade, she smiled on miniature […]

        “Don’t you love the way of tree-lines in the spring?” he asked as they stared on sight of one before.         To him, they seemed of painted brush dabbed in yellow-green—hand mixed in course and haste that left vibrance yellow-bright in flash and standing out from rest—and blotted over brown […]

        Moments and memories lived, with her, he saved as still-frames in his mind.  Inner-adornments, in decorate of soul, he greeted in welcome and often for pleasure and enjoyment of their seeing: white paint of her nails on feet, equally fine and fair; the coffee they shared, pyjamaed or less, in share of warmth […]

               She watched her nephew play in the lawn and thought to autumn dream envisioned in see and live of place and light—just as it was then.                Had she seen it wrong, or was vision still becoming, living now but further sign, premonition, and affirmation of what was to become?                She did not […]