Flash in the Pan


A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

Cut Short


by Maggie Manning

Every summer the swaying blue and yellow roadside sentinels are shorn like so many sheep, cut close to the ground by the ever-circling, uncaring blades. Why? Is there a mandate of some sort stating that beauty doesn't belong by the edge of the road? Might the flowers be a distraction to unwary drivers?

Likewise, I wonder: Why shear the youngster's pale-gold curls so that his head is shorn of glory, shorn of strength, shorn of beauty? Where is the mandate stating that little boys' hair must be cut short? Might his curls lead unwary viewers astray? I ask again, why?

Maggie Manning lives in Geneseo, NY, and mourns the loss of roadside beauty each year.

Twenty-ninth Flash


Long Distance by Richard Jay Goldstein
Closet by Judith Fisher
Kites by Barbarann Ayars
Special Requests: A Haibun by Lynn Edge
A Gate And A Lie by Cathy Bell
Spring In Alta California by Gareth Sadler
A Sighting by Kathleen Fortin
A Spin Or Two by Florence Anrud
The Thing About Autism by Kyra Anderson
The Sounds Of Spring by Wayne Scheer
Things That May Happen With Teeth by Zac Locke
Summer Thunderstorm by Sally Tilbury


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