Tag Archives: black
It sits on his face, long and spiky, like the spines of a porcupine. In black and white, it tells me to keep away. Do not cross him today.
She sits right in the middle of the small pane of glass, hanging as if levitating from the smooth surface. Her Halloween-black body looks relaxed, legs splayed. A gust of wind catches her fragile home, yet still she clings on, … Continue reading
Thick green leaves with red veins like arteries. A red stalk leading down to black, bulbous heads. Pulled from the earth and deposited here, they shed soil onto the cardboard beneath them. Inside dwells sweet red flesh, and juice which … Continue reading
It begins to darken from the horizon, like a thick, black quilt. Wispy clouds graze it with flaming orange-pink scratches. Trees are silhouetted against its fading brightness. The early autumn dusk has come to soon, a beautiful reminder that winter … Continue reading
A blond child runs along the cobbled street. A black cape with gold braiding flies behind him as he goes. I may see a boy, but he sees a superhero.
Long, black and shining, they bounce up and down on her back as she jumps. A child’s excitement reflected in the shape and movement of her hair.
Black raincoat covering her body, hood pulled tight around her ears and chin. Her head is forced down against the driving rain. As she reaches the crossing, she raises it to reveal a startling face; lips and eyes made up … Continue reading
Black and cavernous, she searches deep into its recesses. She crouches on the floor, pushing her arm further and further in. Reminding me of Mary Poppins, I wait to see what she will produce.
A murder of crows. The collective noun comes to me, as I watch a small group of them wheeling above the rooftops. Black as night, small shadows against the blue sky, they move like dancers. Why did we name such … Continue reading