Day 147: Desert Bowl

MORNING GLOWED ON the edge of the window. Mountains looked up, craggy knuckles brushed in rosy white. Flat dry hills merged to form a basin, like the gray-green moss at the bottom of a fishbowl. And she was inside it, a fish in a waterless bowl, missing the scent of the sea on the wind and in the rain.


Written: 3 February 2016

Words: 59 

Inspired: environment 

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