Flash in the Pan


A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

Nirvana


by Ray Scanlon

Seven o'clock, tail end of a hot April day. Quick survey of the estate: disappointingly scant dandelion crop, but a prodigious carpet of dog violets. Then a Dogfish Head IPA and cryptic crossword, folding chair in the driveway, listening to the wood thrushes. Half mile away, dueling dirt bikes. Peepers take over from thrushes two minutes before sunset. Nearly half an hour after sunset, last of the die-hard bitter-ender robins stops singing. Miraculously, not one mosquito.

Ray Scanlon lives in Massachusetts, less than fifty miles from where he was born. He writes sometimes, and is vain enough to publish it at http://read.oldmanscanlon.com.


Seventeenth Flash


Coffee by Ariel Whitworth
Our Past Is Made Up Of All Our Best Efforts by Judy Guarnera
My Louisiana Playhouse by Robbie Guidry
Ode To Momma And The Stages Of Grief by Laura Blatt
Alzheimer’s by Jo Lauer
Rock by Janet Caplan
In Defense Of Writing by Mary Ann Mcguire
Showering - 1969 Vietnam Flashback by Tom Mcgee
Ice Cave by Elaine Webster


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