The Tinder Box Garden

Send us Fan MailThe Tinder Box GardenAnd so begins another day, of heat and silence, already the apple trees wilt under the weight of the harvest year, each full, each heavy, with the light and warmth of the summer sun, and here, in the cool shade of early shadows, the first breath of the hush and wind, whisper, play and falter, resting awhile,upon the crisp and wrinkled hands of leaves, they tremble and fall, the weight of the blue sky,too much to bare, the thin sliver of clouds, stretch the early day into possibilities across the sun-scorched brown of a shrinking earth, as a raven flies a shriek of warning over the garden steps, the same steps that left yesterday’s evening behind,as the scimitar-moon, tilted and turned across the glistening heat of rooftops, but here, this morning, having slipped like the last remnant of a vanquished and conquered people, the descending stone steps seem vacant, abstract, a short path,to a forgotten spring, each of the flowers shrink, nod, dry and brittle, the hand and heat of the morning silence, slip, not by chance, into numbing press of an August day. And far below, far, far below, at the edge of the empty fields, along the narrow lane that twists and turns beneath the question marks of willow, the thousand thinning wreaths of shimmering blue-silver leaves, the dried river bed is just a memory of the hard stones of truth and voices, the great thirst of an unforgettable flood.Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me [email protected]