Envy

Through the window I watch the tree sway. Its leaves lie limp, allowing the wind to mold them, rising and falling with its breath. The branch bends, then rises again, then bends without complaint. The late summer flowers bloom for the sun and promise renewed growth. Year after year it does this: rises taller in the same spot.

No. 172

Planning

The city planted a sapling beside the sidewalk, so in its adulthood it would provide necessary shade. As it grew, the root network extended out, pressing against the pavement, turning it over. Between the cracks, flowering weeds sprouted among the roots. Now on a summer day, the cracks run green and pedestrians walk with care.

No. 114

Seamount

Some bad news, or a minor inconvenience: start the clock. Ninety seconds.

An earthquake—then, an undersea volcano, jostled from slumber, erupts. Lava deposits, a seamount forms and climbs higher and higher. Eruption after eruption it rises until it breaches the surface of the ocean. An act of creation: an isolated island appears. 

I will find myself alone there in a place that I created. 

No. 030