Body Talk


Action: Itching
Word: Sign
Word Count: 93

Body Talk

My body was on fire! And not in a good way. Red flaming boils were busting out all over my lower torso and legs.

What the hell?

Fierce competitors, itching and burning jousted for my attention.

They won.

Relentless pain endured for two weeks. Amid this torment, an inner torture flared up to amplify my discomfort. A particular relationship needed to end.

Surely, the broiling blisters were a sign, warning me this person was no longer good for my health. My body was screaming: Danger. Danger.

I cut the cord.

Voila. The welts vanished.


Flame Keeper


Action: Cooking a meal
Word: lighthouse
Word Count: 97

Flame Keeper

The lighthouse keeper loved solitude and simplicity. His modest needs were met: a hot plate for cooking beans and rice, a cot for intermittent sleep, a woodstove for warmth.

His sacred responsibility – to man the lights 24/7, ensuring seafarers safe passage home.

Little else to occupy, his daily entertainment was Nature’s free concerts.

Waves slapping against the rocks set the tempo. Seagulls cooed the melody and squawked its counterpoint. On stormy days, their harmonies’ accompaniment: rolling drums and clashing cymbals.

Holy music to his ears.

But what he loved most was the light, the light, the light.




Action: Making money
Word: Dream
Word Count: 99



Money grows on trees. Your backyard is full of oaks and maples, willow and ash. Their unlimited foliage, your endless supply.


A life of absolute freedom. No need to sell your soul to meet your soul’s needs. Free to do. Free to be. Free to come and go as you please.

How would you spend your time
Who would be your chosen companions
What would you have and experience
Where would you travel
When would you fulfill your long-deferred dream

Why must we wait for real life to begin?

Look closely. The trees are all around us.


Piano Man


Action: Tapping your feet
Word: Joy
Word Count: 99

Piano Man

Tapping feet rose to stomp. Louder and louder. The vocal din escalated, roused to a lion’s roar. Clapping hands fell into a collective rhythm of impatient anticipation. Twinkling stars burned ever brighter in the dimming light.

We waited.

Finally, Billy Joel appeared onstage. His presence triggered idolatrous worship and contagious delirium (or was that the pot smoke meandering beneath our nostrils?).

Jumping right into it, Billy performed his magic for hours. The crowd swayed in delight. Ineffable joy flooded my being, watching those nimble fingers fly.

If only I could play like him.

The Piano Man was my hero.




Action: Watching TV
Word: Child
Word Count: 95


Mesmerized by a rectangle
Its flashes of colorful eye candy
Its barrage of cacophonous ear buzz

Watch me! Watch me!

Too tired to resist
Just flick the switch and switch the flick
To something boring, or titillating, or stupid, or scary

A child’s nightmare

Entertain me! Entertain me!

No will to resist
Grab a burger, pop a beer
Take in the daily meat and drink

Why do we open this Box of Blather
The substitute teacher that teaches us nothing
When we can go outside, look around, and breathe?

There is magic in the air.


Mother’s Day


Action: Arranging flowers
Word: Pinwheel
Word Count: 98

Mother’s Day

Swooning with sensual delight, I arrange the honey-scented blooms in a crystal vase. The lavender, white, dusky pink lilacs are her favorite flowers.

While hands primp and fluff, thoughts revolve counterclockwise.

A family outing to an amusement park. She bought each of us a pinwheel as a souvenir. Fascinated by the spinner, I recall blowing on the colorful spokes, entertained by the clicky-clack sound of their gathering momentum.

The same sound those playing cards made when we embedded them in our bicycle tires and noisily raced each other down the neighborhood street.

Life’s wheels just keep on turning.


Wind Chimes

Action: Listening to wind chimes
Word: Drop
Word Count: 99

Wind Chimes

Reclining on the porch love seat, I slip into dreamlike reverie as a breeze wafts softly across my face, teasing the wind chimes to sing their song.

Those tickling bells, their random tones, more heavenly to my ears than a Bach fugue.

The king of structure, Bach created musical patterns that conform to precise mathematical principles. Complex and exquisite, his melodies flow in perfect harmony.

In a world of chaos, confusion and uncertainty, his compositions promise order, clarity, and comforting resolution.

Why, then, do the wind chimes’ aimless, unpredictable tunes move me so reverently to drop to my knees?


Kite Flying


Action: Flying a kite
Word: Box
Word Count: 100

Kite Flying

Radiant sun. Cobalt sky. Cotton clouds. Brisk breeze. A perfect day for kite flying. He couldn’t wait to give his birthday present its maiden voyage.

Running the shoreline, he launched his private plane. Ocean air swiftly hoisted its rainbow sail.

Boy and toy soared free, like the birds, defying gravity’s pull. The kite’s wagging tail, an irrepressible puppy.

Dancing on the wind, the tether suddenly snapped. Transfixed, the boy froze as his beloved friend waved goodbye and disappeared.

Dejected, he gathered his frayed lifeline and the empty gift box. Shaking the sand from his shoes, he walked home in tears.



Action: Blinking eyes
Word: Purple
Word Count: 99


The foreign landscape feels strange. Unfamiliar. Its unmapped terrain allures yet terrifies. No recognizable landmark appears to show the way.

Where is she?

Treading unknown territory, her every step forward is another step further into confusion and uncertainty.

Beyond her field of vision, pretty purple blossoms wave their friendly hello; perhaps accessible, but still, they seem out of reach.

Lost in this wilderness, she looks skyward in search of True North’s guiding light. Her imploring prayer remains unheard as myriad blinking eyes mischievously twinkle their unspoken secrets.

They provide no compass. She will have to stumble in the dark.



Action: Doing a puzzle
Word: Circle
Word Count: 100


Gazing upon the heap of dusty fragments, she feels defeated before she starts. Such drudgery organizing this chaotic pile. A daunting but necessary task if she wants to play the game.

Best to make it bite-sized. Erect the walls, find the cornerstones, build the framework.

So much effort, just to begin.

It gets easier. As each piece slips into place, a dopamine rush inspires her to keep going.

Once complete, a momentary satisfaction does reward. Then the picture gets broken apart and circles back to the heap from whence it came, stowed in a cardboard box, awaiting its next player.