A quiet collected overnight, pooling
like a low cloud,
netted in the bottommost boughs.
By midmorn the sun sullenly warmed the lawn,
leaving frosted tree shadows reaching for the house.
Doubting her gloved hand,
she checked the lock twice before leaving.
Crushed leaves sighed louder
as she quickened her pace along the path.
A fallen branch crusted with frost
felt like a femur beneath her boot.
She slipped, knees and fists first into the ground.
Suddenly the neighbor’s axe swing
sounded louder.
Janeen Pergrin Rastall is recovering from a decade of Writer’s block in Marquette, MI. Her work was previously published in 2 River View and will appear in a future edition of Short, Fast and Deadly.
© 2010, Janeen Rastall
Halfway Down the Stairs 