Robin Hawke

April 12, 2012, 10:00 AM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

During pollen season, dust motes circled the air, small galaxies. They drifted through wide and narrow spaces.  Minor irritations, they created small bangs of flying matter.


My stories become pedestrian when my thoughts follow the trenches on the left side of my brain. And it is another beautiful day, despite the pollen.

2 Comments so far
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I don’t see anything pedestrian in this entry. I like the imagery. 🙂

Comment by jmmcdowell

Glad to know I was able to elevate dust and sneezes from pedestrian! LOL

Comment by Robin Hawke

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