Lying in the bed of my pickup, on my back with a jacket balled up beneath my head, I took in the splendor of the stars and marveled at the beautiful arc of the Milky Way.
But what seemed like a simple enough proposition has become an unending nightmare. Drive several miles out of town, into the desert, for a night of sky watching. What could go wrong? Falling asleep with my parking lights on, for one thing.
Sun blazing and my water long gone, I lie in the bare shadow of a large rock after two days and nights of walking. I realize I am seeing clouds in what was clear sky just moments ago, but these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter against the blue cloth of the sky.
I close my eyes and wait for rain that never comes.
This is my response to Prosery: Clouds, the prompt from Merril at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is from “Clouds,” by Constance Urdang
“But these clouds are clearly foreign, such an exotic clutter
Against the blue cloth of the sky”
– Constance Urdang
I’ve met the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly.
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