A thin blanket over vibrant late summer.
Silent white, still as death,
Satisfying in its containment.
Not part of the scene,
Hovered just above and north,
Invisible and unremembered in this moment’s lapse,
Accepting that all is as it should be.
It lingered, this stillness, this moment
Before the alarm pierces the darkness and eyes shutter open to snap the shot before the rushing flow of sunlight and voices, the river of everyday that roars and twists and pulls me along,
A red leaf-spin noted in everyone else’s emergency.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2019)
Carrot Ranch Prompt(09/26/2019): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about someone unremembered. Is it a momentary lapse or a loss in time? Play with the tone — make it funny, moving, or eerie. Go where the prompt leads you!