friend Wind carries seeds
to Earth to grow into trees
Fire killed, need Water
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Nicholas Bradd and writers in Poets and other communities.
During the summer when I was 9, I lived a house we rented at the end of a road in Northern California. It was a rental from some weird guy that sang in a band. Their favorite song to sing was that one about the lion sleeping in the jungle. He would sing when he came over to fix things on the house. There were huge pine trees everywhere. Squirrels running and jumping from branch to branch, occasionally bombing you with a pinecone knocked loose. Once a pinecone broke our patio table. Of course, our mom didn’t believe it was not me or my little sister that broke the table.
By Nicholas Bradd5 years ago in Families
Tiptoeing through the daisies Splashing in the puddles Clad in a bright coat and galoshes Twirling a tricolored umbrella
By Mother Combs7 days ago in Poets
It rained, and the world felt heavy, Gray clouds pressed down on his chest. Ayaan sat on the cold, wet bench, The puddles mirrored his unrest.
By Imran Ali Shah3 days ago in Poets
“I told you we were going too far off trail,” said Clark. “I thought Ammon said he could read a compass,” said Kit. “Guys, it’s easy, we just need to find a river or stream and follow it. Those things always lead to civilization,” Ammon said and pushed through thick patch of bushes.
By Amos Glade4 days ago in Horror
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.