My hand’s all numbers so what the heck?
I drew a card from atop the deck,
My palms were wet and my cheeks a-fire
A chip and a chair with stakes ne’er higher.
My fortunes rose and I watched ‘em fall,
As the ‘Old Man with the Axe’ takes all.
Photo by Rumalowa
The Cessna’s wings clipped the tops off several jack pine as it thundered through the brush on its way down.
Missy’s moon shadow cast long, tail twitching in anticipation; the taste of freshly killed squirrel electrified her whiskers.
I hear them, wriggling and squirming, first to my left, then my right, and then it filled my whole world with noise.
Martha woke from her terrible dream with the chills.
