Simply 6 Minutes- 1/25/22- Reconnected

This prompt asks us to create a story -using the photo- in only six minutes.
To write your own, or read others, follow the link at the bottom of this post.

Mount-Zoomore-Optical-Illusion.jpg (1024×768)

Jasmine leaned against the tree drinking in her view of the breathtaking mountains. Soon, her real-time vision clouded and was replaced with images from legends her grandfather had told her.
The mountain became a living history based on ancient wisdom. Spirit guides came into focus offering her a grander view of life. All became so crystal clear! She was insignificant but vital to a connected universe… part of a larger plan.
When the eagle’s shadow crossed her face, she awakened. Her worried heart had been replaced with a calm, and balanced, soul.

#WritePhoto Speaking to Me

storm #writephoto

“What the hey?”

My twin sister and I had one of those “mirror speak” instances that twins often have. The monolith had caught our eye simultaneously. With mouths agape, we were mesmerized bookends on a green knoll.

Our next moment held one of those meeting of the eyes with an unspoken twinkling challenge to a race! Off we ran to inspect the colossal rock. We wouldn’t notice the skinned knees and elbows, we collected from stumbling and falling on the way, until shower time.

This International Girl Scout Jamboree had been terribly boring. Now, a towering rock with chiseled features was about to make all the meetings, seminars, and foreign food choices, worth it!

What a grand anomaly in this green landscape! It stood motionless as we ran our hands along the crevices and squinted upward. As the low clouds stirred a coming storm, it suddenly felt as if it were swaying. I almost fell on my back from the dizzying effect of swift moving skies above such a solid object.

We were in the presence of something ancient. It wasn’t at all supposed to have survived for just our delight. It wasn’t supposed to be a play thing either. I could feel it in my bones. There were inscribed letters in an alien language that spoke to me. My soul well understood with no need for translation.

Again, my sister and I locked eyes. This time, there was depth and seriousness there. She had received the same message… the awesome weight of human history. We backed away this time, bending a bit in homage.

Our arm and arm walk back to camp, was a silent one.


This photo reminded me of one of my favorite poems.


Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Old News

Just as  Spring awakens,

 A world of golden hues.

Faded floras’ textures,

Glimpses of old news.

Gone but not forgotten.

Skeletons en mass.

Ancient beauty reckons.

Reflects life of a past.

Freshened are the seedlings,

Forgetting whence they came.

Old news is always welcome.

 Familiar not the same.

 A breeze, the dusty scatter.

Old news we’ve come to know.

Green colors life inspired.

As seeds of Spring will sow.