Transcendence Digital Stories

I drink rainwater with my coffee, catching a molecule by surprise. The sky stretches like a telephone wire, each cloud a twist in the cord of  a purple-pink sunrise. My right heel clicks on the damp pavement, earbuds wedged tightly in pinking  ears, feeling ant-like in size. Metal doors glance against my fingernails, pace faltering to help someone enter too, and our eyes lock on the knowledge that we’re all loved unconditionally;  every morning, dusk, day, afternoon  and midn

Ever shifting, ever moving When I finally feel I know what to do My life upends and it’s not so soothing To be real with You and with myself When I finally think I’ve “made it” You show me the opposite A constant shift between what I know  And what I feel As your mother Mary said, “Do whatever he tells you” I must daily surrender my plans Even if no one else understands Though I am in this life with others I am in it with You most of all You’ll be there when I fall Each time

At the tree line, pale sky tingles with cold pink blurs; just above it, periwinkle puffs and patches; the wan sun stirs, bleary blue blinks, yawns and brightens. The day is waking and the clouds aching, in wispy whispers blow white wind below. Crispy air curdles and orange leaves sway, and on the grass, dewdrops kiss stiff yellow blades. Ruddy squirrels skip under black oak shade. The glowering glade evades thawing rays; ever evergreen, it demands to stay. “Suit yourself,” th