Positively, Like Walt Whitman

It hit them like a smack in the face; or maybe more like a spank on the rump: The insult of being grouped with those high winds, made it hard to keep steady on the path. The wood creaked on the guard rails, and it all just seemed a bit unsafe. It was like walking the plank, a game that little kids play which was once an unfortunate pirate's death. A thankless job, one that took a certain type of man to complete. It was more of a puzzle.

She felt he was the last piece of blue in the sky, or maybe the missing piece of grass. Leaves of grass in fact.

© 2011 Lee Greenfeld