Tuesday, January 12, 2016

"Gloaming" by Walter J. Phillips

Ripples of milky sun interrupt the mottled sheet. A sharp shard of red tears through them both. Aboard the canoe, a woman softly steers. Her body has melted into the water, leaving her head an elevated, ghostly observer.

I am alone here now, listening to the wind and sloshing waters. Some of these sounds I control, but mostly they are beyond my influence. I look down at my feet on the floor and I feel large. But deep down in the pit of my soul I feel my smallness. 

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