Oak trees swaying on a soft wind disguise themselves as birches today. Yesterday’s snow sticks like spray paint, trails of white flypaper hang in uneven strips from graying bark. They remind me of a spring day long ago, when aggravated; I sawed off a birch branch that blocked the view as we backed out of our driveway.
For one stunned moment I gaped as sap rained from the gash, a geyser of clear blood spurting from an amputated limb. As liquid pulsed from the open vein, I ran up the hill to the house, squeezing eyes tight to the unexpected wound my impatience had inflicted.
6 comments:
dont know if this just actually happened, but very direct and precise in its delivery (to me at least, very good, I am no critic,, lol)
This actually happened Glen.
I thought you had just written this. This actually happened? Wow! =)
Great imagery. It really put me in the moment.
Oh wow! Great writing Liza. That actually happened? Double wow!
I totally identify with you. Seeing the tree bleed would have shocked me, too.
Helen
Straight From Hel
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