55 Fiction Friday

That morning there was a little thin broth with a few bits of stringy meat, and I knew one of the prison dairy cows that provided our usual, megre daily cup of sustenance had stopped giving milk.

I mourned her and thanked her departed spirit for her milk.  Then I ate her just the same.

haiku - http://knitthebridge.wordpress.com/

Crocheting remnants,

a journal of past projects

weaving memories.

Photo by: Jay
Crocheted panel by: Osquer

haiku

 

Seeds helicopter

 

down from the maple trees, toys

 

for the playful wind.

 

Photo by: Osquer



haiku

 

Sunlight sparkles in

 

May Day blossoms, fluttering

 

their hello to Spring.

 



 

Photos by: Osquer