Lynn Edge: SILENT STORM

I beg my husband to stop at an old apple orchard in the Davis Mountains. The owner sells his ruby reds in bushel boxes stacked on the back of a green pickup. "Too many," my spouse protests, but I insist.

Two days later crossing the desert plains, our truck and trailer sway. A West Texas windstorm. He grips the wheel; I muffle my fear. Between Ozona and Sonora, we find a rundown RV park. I step from the truck and wind-driven sand stings my arms and face. The trailer door whips from my hand, slams against the side. From the doorway, the cloying scent of apples.

I peel, pare, simmer, sprinkle with cinnamon. Gusts rock the aluminum trailer; sand peppers the walls. The wind howls, but we eat our applesauce in silence.

our anniversary
only his voice
on the phone

by Lynn Edge

Tivoli, Texas

first published in Table Turning: BHS Haibun Anthology 2005

Lynn Edge: AFTER CLAUDETTE 2003

Eventide on the Texas Coast. I follow a winding trail down the thirty foot bluff to a man-made peninsula. A pier juts from its tongue. My footsteps echo on weathered wooden boards washed clean by recent rain. Near the end a lone fisherman stands, his three rods in holsters along the railing. Tiny metal bells warn of nibbles from below. Night falls. The air smells of water, salt. Storm cleansed. The sea breeze rises, cooling my skin as I climb back to the rim. I turn and look again. On the opposite shore the lights of Seadrift, a fishing village, glitter in the darkness.

mesquite branches
leaning west –
wind sculptured

by Lynn Edge

Tivoli, Texas

first published in Kaleidowhirl, Spring 2005