The exercise:
Write something which takes place on or near: the river.
Showing posts with label River Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label River Prompt. Show all posts
Thursday May 27th, 2021
The exercise:
Write about: a roaring river.
Theme developing? Or just me being lazy?
Who's to say.
Wednesday December 15th, 2010
The exercise:
Today we go to: the river.
Living room is finished, starting on the first bedroom tomorrow. Might even finish it, if working in and around the closet isn't too much of a pain.
Mine:
Rushing water brushes
His dangling toes,
While his mind swirls with thoughts
That only he knows.
The sun kisses his brow
In farewell today,
Before the river takes
His soul far away.
Monday June 14th, 2010
The exercise:
Your prompt today is: down by the river.
I'll even accompany it with another picture I took this weekend:
I was rather embarrassed to realize today that I'd used Friday's prompt of 'back in the saddle' as a prompt before. Re-using prompts I don't mind doing - it's just when I do it without realizing it that it bugs me :P
I suppose with over two years worth of prompts it was bound to happen eventually.
Mine:
We sat in the damp grass on the riverbank, our legs dangling over water turned white and frothy by rocks we could not see, our bare feet coated with a fine mist. A lackadaisical breeze set the leaves on both sides of the river to twitching and alleviated the heat from an early afternoon sun that seemed to be closer to Earth than usual that day. Birds communicating in their secret languages was the only noise that reached us that did not come from the water below.
I wanted to apologize for forgetting the fishing rods in the garage. I hadn’t noticed their absence from the pile of tents, sleeping bags, and backpacks in the trunk. My father had never left them behind when we went camping. We would go every summer weekend that he could sneak out of the office early on the Friday, which happened surprisingly regularly for a man in a position of such great responsibility. Mom would always pretend to disapprove of his lack of dedication to his job, but dad knew she was privately thrilled at his commitment to spending quality time with their son.
But I did not live up to my father’s gold standard – the rods were collecting dust back home, tucked away beside my work bench, while I sat with my son empty handed by the river.
I took a deep breath as I struggled to phrase my apology in such a way that my deep regret would be properly conveyed. Taking in the clean, green-scented air, I turned to him as my lips began to part but no words managed to escape me.
My son was sitting there, a peaceful smile decorating his face, his body emanating contented relaxation, as he gazed at the water rushing by. He noticed me staring and flashed me a pleased grin before returning to his study of the river.
And that was when I realized there was nothing to make amends for.
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