Rainy Day #poetry

leaf drop

Scattered about

by big raindrops

little feet

water puddles seek

some under hoods

umbrellas hide

 creatures burrow

wait for God’s rainbow

rainbowecho 3924852858_53e886bc91

Shared with Poet’s United Poets Pantry.

The picture of the rainbow I found years ago and I dont know who to attribute the beauty to.


Woman in the Mirror #shortstory

Have you ever visited an antique and met a ghost from the past or two?

It was a wet rainy day. I really was not intending to browse in the musty antique store but at that moment I was passing  there was a fierce downpour which forced me indoors. I tried to take a deep breath but the dust clogged my nostrils;  I forced myself to breath as little as necessary.

“Welcome” the old shopkeeper smiled an aged, toothless smile. I gathered she was as old as some of the pieces. “Please tell me if I can be of assistance deary”.

I walked around the cluttered rows of dingy furniture.  “Ah light,” I gasped as I took the stairs two at a time. ” Maybe there will be something worth looking at up there and perhaps less dust.” I said in a hushed voice realizing her hearing was also ancient.   “Squeek, clop, clop” I sounded like a horse  on wooden slats.

At last I was upstairs. I turned around in a room that seemed so airy and springlike. I could almost hear birds chirping. The sun was streaming in from a skylight. “How is that possible?” I shook my head as if in a fairy tale.  I minded little the time I might spend here. I looked at item after item – each “one of a kind” in my estimation. Then I felt warmth as if a hand touched mine. I looked down and my hand was resting on a beautiful yellowing mirror. The lines from the elephant tusk were obvious as I ran my hand over the smooth  ivory. I felt the need to see if the mirror was cracked so I turned it over. As I gazed at myself, I was shocked at what I saw.

“I dont own a brocade, three-quarter sleeve gown. What am I thinking? I dont own any gowns.”  I heard a whisper from behind me. It must be an open window. Then I heard it clearly.

” Come close let me look at you.”

” Who are you, ” I asked trying to keep the trembling in my voice down.

“My name is Janille Constantine.”

” My name is Malina.”

” I  like that name Malina. I have never heard that name before. Have you seen him today?” she asked in a beautiful lyrical voice.

“Have I seen whom?”

” My lover of course. We are supposed to meet here so that my intended would not see us.” Janille giggled with mirth.

” No I am sorry what does he look like? ”

“He is very handsome. He rides the blackest of stallions and his blue eyes carry mischief  and love.”

” I’m sure if I saw him I would remember him.” I had to look again into the mirror as I was certain that I could not be carrying on this conversation with myself.

“Yes he always wears a bowler hat and carries a smart cane.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Why on Jersey shore of course my dear. I am from the Constantine family; we live in a darling home on the sea-shore in the summer and we return to our plantation in the fall once the disease has left the lowlands.”

“My what an exciting life you must lead. I would love to see your home. ”

“Yes alas I believe once papa knows about Roland he will send me away to my aunt’s.” her r rolled in a perfect southern drawl.

“What about your intended?”

“Oh Joseph. He is a good boy but he is not a man who knows the world. He is protected by his mama.”

“Oh” I started to smile. I had dated someone like that and was glad the “love of my life” lived on the edge.

“Then why don’t you break it up with Joseph? ”

“Well I have discussed it with Roland he always tells me no and tells me to shush.”

Just then I heard the sound of a gun shot.

” Oh my what am I to do? What is it?”

“A man has been shot outside of the shop. You must hide – please hide.”

“Where? ”

“Under a bureau!”

“Yes I will.”  I held my breath waiting as I heard the pounding of footsteps on the stairs as suddenly as they came up they went back down.

“No one is here. That scoundrel Roland.”

” He’s dead.”  I heard a mouse like  voice.

” Murielle your husband was a cheat and a gambler. It is better this way come home with your older brother.”

I heard crying as a face came back into view. “They killed him my Roland. Who was the woman? Oh my I guess he was married. I never knew.”

“But you are safe Janille.”

“Yes I am I will return to my papa’s home in South Carolina. I will never return here again.” She tried to sound brave but her voice could not countain the soft cries.

“Goodbye Malina.” a sweet voice said and then the mirror went dark.

When I went home I googled the name of Constantine. There it was the picture of the beautiful, young woman I had spoken with. She had unexpectedly died by gunshot in the street in New Jersey on her way home.

I looked up the name of Roland and found several who lived in the area then I saw him. The most daring and compelling blue eyes and I knew why she had loved that captivating man.

I went back to the antique store on another rainy day. I was curious to see whom I might meet…

This short story was inspired by the elephant tusk mirror that was an heirloom and an archived poem I wrote.

Photograph: “Gradma’s Mirror”  L. Moon copyright 2011

Faith & Entropy

Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.


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