Reid@YWP

Write a short story or poem about a time traveler or time travelers. Where and when are they going? Where and when are they coming from? What are they going to do when they get there?

Summer is not my favorite season,

summer is not really my jam,

but as June, July, and August

approach in their usual pack,

I find myself longing for the winding days,

the heat that slowly drives us all crazy,

The clouds churn in swirls, grey and dark. A sorrow that befalls the earth, mourning something deep and untold. A tear rolls down, cold and bitter and I weep for the misery of this darkness.

In January,

when the thrill of the holidays has not yet faded

and the snow still enchants with its glittering smile,

she flops into snowbanks and skids on her knees on the ice

of her backyard pond,

The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity-clacking of the keys on the keyboard.