Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
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.
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