Flash in the Pan


A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

New Moon


by Diane Larae Bodach

You stopped by to bring ice, stayed for steamed veggies
with melted cheese. You helped move the tent. We laughed
as you lifted the tarp and the fearsome animals
which had kept me awake and finally paralyzed
by fear much of the previous night (I'd gone through
my mental list 20 times or more. Rats? Raccoons?
Coyotes? Snakes? Wild pigs? Mountain lion?!!—you'd seen one
in the abandoned orchard below the house!) until I finally
discovered by morning it must be something living
under the tent—
turned out to be three tiny
field mice. (I made you promise not to tell.)
Stunned by the sudden brightness and exposure, they sat
for a full minute among the sifted forest debris, their little
noses raised, sniffing the air, before they scampered off—two into
the woods, one behind the camp cabinet. After supper
you put two mats in the meadow and we lay together
watching the new moon brighten and then sink slowly
behind the great fir trees that line the meadow, (like a giant
with a lantern, you said) as the stars defined themselves
gradually against the darkening sky. In this way
we continue, not knowing what we are: chums, lovers,
fellow rebels—squirreling away
the days together as these small graces bless us.
After you'd gone back to the house, I lay beneath
the vast sky shifting on its axis ‘til the light circled
around again and crept gently through the trees to the east .

Diane LaRae Bodach

Fifth Flash


Hold by Barbara Spicer
Smell Of Rubber by Tony Johnson
The Sins Of The Father by Glenn Mccrea
Punctuation by Kate Willens
Drawn To The Light by Suzanne R. Thurman
Le Pilier (the Pier) by Julian Lindemuth
River by Leslie Curchack
Party Time by Viola Hargadine
Rules by Terry Law
We Don't Talk About It by Amy Zimmer
Hearing Colors by Armand Gelpi


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