Category: AI Art
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Delivers Wisdom in Small, Reusable Jars The old woman stirs her teawith a cinnamon stickthat once doubled as a wand,then tucks itinto her apron pocket,right beside a raisinthat gave up being lunch. She says philosophy can fiton the head of a pin,but you’ll have to squint. Rule 4. Be a blossom.Roots are…
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21 March: Ten Things of Thankful
A week of birthday celebrations, fresh air and spring gardening, and food shortages. 1) Thankful for getting two Mother’s Day a year. The one in the UK is called Mothering Sunday, and it’s for everyone who ‘mothers’ — so being a mother isn’t a requirement. And then in May, I get the one that America…
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2003: Journal of Thoughts
El Capitan’s Lesson I came to you from the east,from Mono Lake’s dead and living watertangled with krilland seagulls by the million.A lake that does not know it’s dead. And the sun, that old familiar,washed your coarse-grain granitewith the same brightnessit has washed for hundreds of millions of years. Same colour. Same dip into darkness.Same.Again.Again.Centuries…
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1603: Six Sentence Story
Brigid’s Diary, 1834, What the River Knows Episode III – Lyon, The Confluence At the meeting of the Saône and the Rhône rivers, the surface agreed while the bodies argued, currents swinging between quarrel and agreement, each teaching the other a deeper way to move. It spoke without lifting its voice, smooth as glass where…
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1603: The Liturgy
Liturgy for the Confluence of All Things(for Lyon, where the rivers join and the age does not) I. The Place Where Waters Meet Here the Saône loosens its dark bodyinto the clearer Rhône. No treaty.No argument. Brown water takes green.Green water takes brown. They braid,shoulder to shoulder,and go on. Brigid watches the seamwhere difference disappears.…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Wisdom Delivery Service The old woman stirs her morning tea,and tucks a bit of this too shall passinto her apron pocket,next to a stray raisinthat might be hopeor might be breakfast. Her entire philosophycould fit on the head of a pin,(if the pin was slightly bent)and smelled faintly of orange marmaladeand mothballs.…
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1403: Spring Thoughts
The blues bow their heads.The yellows shiver.Purple crocuses tighten. They do not know the wind is turning,do not feel North’s cold bladeat their throat. “Of course they don’t know,”says the crow from his bare March branch,“they believe in tomorrow.That’s what makes them flowers.” Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own…
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1303: Journal of Thoughts
The House Learns Its Tune Decades I’ve lived here,and only now do I hear it when the wind comes off the sea,south by southwest,my house sings. The gales are no destroyers.They are fingerson the roof tiles,a hand at the chimes.Each slate, a note.Each ridge, a phrase held long. Gusts draw themselvesover the windowsills,thin lips to…
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1203: RDP Image
Image of a cow having a good ol’ feed in the hedgerows — and blocking country lane traffic in Devon UK. Posted for Ragtag Daily Prompt: Cow ©Misky 2006-2026.
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1203: Three Poems for Sahara Air
I. Senryudust from distant sandseven the old oaks seem unsurewhich land they belong to II. Haikusahara driftingbare branches fade into mistfar from their desert III. Sahara Morning, West Sussex This morningthe woods forgot their colour. Oak and birchstood quietly in borrowed air,their branches holdinga breath from another continent. Somewhere far awaya desert wind lifted its…
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