The cloud passed over the mountain, creating a dark shadow among the trees below. It reformed itself constantly as it glided silently toward the foothills. I could see it dropping rain in the arroyos for several minutes. Finally it drifted off in my direction and faded to nothing. No rain for me.
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He knocked on my door and introduced himself. He had some strange sounding foreign name and I told him to go away. He was pretty scary looking with dark skin and odd robes instead of a normal person’s clothes. I saw him knocking on the neighbor’s door. She let him in! I thought about calling the police, but I got out my pistol instead. I hid it under my shirt and went over to see if my neighbor needed help. . . .
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It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. The iris are blooming in nearly every yard. The flowering shrubs like forsythia are bright. It’s lovely to stroll around and look at the houses with everything colorful and beautiful. Okay, so maybe there’s a lot of wild mustard sprouting in the rocks and the dandelions are blooming along with everything else. But let’s not be negative. Winter is finally over.
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When Richard was a boy we called him Little Richard because his dad was Richard, too. After a while we just called him Little. He’s a grown man now, over 6 feet tall and big as an outhouse, but everyone in the family still calls him Little. He gets angry and wants us to use his name. The name he wants us to use is Stella. He wants us to use different pronouns, too. It’s very hard to change after all these years.
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It’s a party outside! Everything is waking up, coming alive. New shoots, new blooms, leaves bursting from buds. Spring is not just a season, it’s a metaphor for burgeoning life and hope. The longer days, the sun, the daffodils! Let’s all party.
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There was no internet at this lake. Her parents were crazy if they thought this trip was a vacation. She was on the highway to hell and she knew it. She clapped earphones over her ears and refused to talk to anyone. Her little brother bounced up and down in the seat and chattered about deer and squirrels – she hated him! What a jerk!
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I admire and am attracted to intelligence. An intelligent, well-written sentence or poem impresses me. All my life I’ve strived to write to write impressive sentences. Once in a while I succeed.
Recently I was reading an old journal I wrote while on a trip to Italy. There were a few good sentences in it. You have to admit it’s pretty funny when a writer impresses herself with her own sentences!
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