It took me all afternoon IV
On my way home today, I drove above the clouds. They were resting on the backs of horses so politely, curling around their fetlocks like cats at suppertime. Whispering into ears that dart thiswayandthat.
The vaporous tide ebbed at the embankment by the highway. Jumped startled as the car passed.
The valleys were darkening in the hope and memory of daylight. The horses will sleep standing, ears ready as Tuesday’s security guards.
Back in the kitchen, I rest my mind against the ceiling and watch the clouds gathering around the man at the table. No introduction. Neither reason nor resume. Just a cold front.
Coiling around ankles like strangers’ hands, resting on shoulders like a wooden deadline. Into nostrils, lungs, blood. Heart.
And he keeps his mouth real closed.
(But tomorrow the clouds will dapple men and horses from way up there.)
~ by Daniel Townsend on May 23, 2013.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags: clouds, creative writing, depression, fog, horses, short stories, short story
v nice.