100-Word Fiction: ‘Snowblind’

She was running through snowflakes. He always told her to take care, don’t slip, keep her gloves on, wear a hat, knowing how paranoid he sounded and how much he felt like his own father. The moment made him anxious, frustrated and sad. She just smiled and ran off up the hill. Look at her go. She was too young to know anything, she just wanted to slide. The burn of the cold would come later and she’d know then. Adults forgot how these days were nothing but fun. Fun was blind. Was that an expression? If only she’d lived.

100-Word Fiction: ‘If Just Once Those Birds’

If just once those birds
That scatter snow from the tall tree –
Its branches shaken from white to green
By whirled circles on the wing –
Would cross to us and feed

If just once those birds
Would cease from flailing
And flashing their colours
To the phosphorescent sky
And be still

If just once those birds,
As the yellow lamps
Light to stain the day,
Would linger and tread
Our path

If once those birds
Would trust
Our nails and wood
And feeding cage

If those birds
Suffered the troubles
We went to

If those birds
Saw humans
In snow

100-Word Fiction: ‘Like’

Like at night, talking at the table, and glancing outside to see the snow falling. Like forgetting and awakening; again the clear magic. Like the blackthorn’s spindle branches and grass turned bronze and the endless white sky. And the snow that came like confetti first, and clung to the birches and the oaks, and settled like a warm robe across the woods. Like the gleeful shouts that crack the morning still, the scrape of shovels and crunch of boots. Like the water’s edge with its icy hem and the stealthy strut of a curlew. Like coffee. Like my lover’s eyes.