Browsing Category: Short Story

               She accepted from him the role of muse as one who when presented with a possibility, unexpectedly, discovers purpose: as if it had been, should be, and could be no other way.                In her aura, she existed unchanged, indifferent, yet always aware of the place and purpose that she played.  She was present […]

               Beneath kaleidoscope-corona, she revealed herself as well; beautiful, fair, and lovely in removal of the veil: bright porcelain-vibrance in ochre-freckled cast over wonder of woman’s form; areole hue striking in contrast and swelled into focused centers shocked in cool of new-air touch then cover of warmth in taking lips—spirit-response to body’s sense—becoming greater one […]

               His favorite meals were those they shared alone, just he and she, yield from garden’s harvest from time and labors shared together in enrichment to bodies, spirits, and minds; enjoyed bounty of simple and joyful labors that bore fruit for them to see.                In the candle light and quiet of evening, meals made […]

               “You don’t really believe that do you?”                “Believe what?”                “Fatima: The Miracle of the Sun; that Mary revealed herself in celestial signs in movement and changing of the sun?”                “Why shouldn’t I?’                “It just seems absurd, ridiculous.  How could anyone believe in sign and miracle like that in our modern […]

               “Meanwhile, forgive me but there are other things we must think about: like doing our jobs…showing a bit of ordinary kindness to people, particularly our own families—unkindness to those close to us is such a pitiful th8ing—doing what we can…things which, please forgive me, sometimes seem more important than dwelling on a few middle-aged […]

               In open air and sky of wilds, they made love in the broken light beneath autumn understory; her body as aspen’s skin—light and fair and bright in wash of sun through canopy of gold; the cool of the air and heat of their hold in stay of bond between; her face above, like sun, […]

      Beauty is not the end.  Beauty is not the aim.  Beauty is the means, inspiration, and catalyst to purpose: to create, perpetuate, continue, for another generation more; on and on, into infinity, or at last the chain is broken-when we fail to see the greater purpose and in beauty made as end and aim, the […]