A Writer’s Voyages

Who needs a plane ticket, train pass or vehicle when each day’s a voyage? You wash dishes, pondering a mysterious murder. You spray water on zinnias, considering Adrian the accountant’s motivation for leaving her husband. As you dust books, you’re ascending Everest, your lungs taxed. Is it altitude sickness? Stirring, fragrant pasta sauce, you imagine a Pegasus carrying you aloft, over a meadow into the mountains where fairies with glowing wings fly and where you wave your wand and chant: “let there be peace among humans and let them treat creatures humanely” and it is so.

 

end 6/24/2016

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