Sunshine

I sat parked with the seat back and the radio playing classical music. The weather forecast called for sunshine, but it began to drizzle. I decided to wait and hoped the rain would pass. I had nowhere else to go, so sticking it out was the logical choice. As the rain subsided, I shut the radio, raised the seat and turned the car off.

I walked to the grave site of my wife and placed a bouquet of daisies on the stone.

“I’m here as promised.”

I knelt and said a silent prayer.

The sky clouded and then it poured.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Queen Bee

Melissa, Greek for Queen bee, settled on soft grass. Her flaxen hair complementing an array of colorful flowers; crimson roses forming a perfect circle, stunning pink azaleas beckoning busy insects, clusters of lilac hyacinths and scatters of yellow, white and red chrysanthemums. Her lined hands picked lazily at the daisies strewn across the well-maintained green carpet as she listened to the animated gulls chattering overhead. To be part of nature was relaxing and relaxation healed. The river's lively current swooshed at the banks beyond. She was at peace, just like her beloved Jacob whose dreary grey head stone overshadowed her.

From Guest Contributor Kerry Valkyrie Baldock Kelly

Tepid

6:17 am. Chilly out. Her teeth, against the pink roses on the gold-leafed rim of her chipped tea cup with matching saucer cradling renegade drops of Lipton's--headquarters in Hoboken--clink and chatter. Behind her, tractor wheels first crunch and smash the little stick fence, cracking like femurs, then pummel the daisies, until finally the front door splinters apart. Empty Campbell cans and Hellman’s jars, lost tin and remnant timber crash the family photo, not hers, from a Sears’ catalog, but nonetheless... Miss Dallyworth takes the last sip, while the gentrification continues on, at her new address: the curb.

From Guest Contributor, Jennnifer Sarah Cooper