Microprose with prompts

where can it wander? And where can we take it.

Each month, I write haiku based on a theme with a group of folks on ZOOM. This month, I acted as facilitator/host and chose “apples” as our theme. We begin with a short grounding meditation, then we each list words that the theme provokes in us. It is always a surprise how many words we can list with little overlap. We share our words and then for around 8 to 10 minutes we write freely, our hand continuously guiding the pen in a stream of consciousness style, pen never leaving the paper, forward always forward. Here is what appeared with a few small edits while I was typing it up.

Autumn and Apples

I’m walking in what is left of the Old Orchard that lies between Aunt Carrie and Uncle Clarence’s farm and the piece of land where Aunt Elsie and Uncle Gordon live. It is September, Labour Day weekend.

Today, is so warm. The leaves are just beginning to change colour. The sun is bright; lots of apples litter the ground. Bees buzz around me. I have never been stung by them; the smell is so sweet and fruity.

I am allowed to run freely so long as I stay within the farmline fence; I can go over to Grandma and Grandpa Jenvey’s farm. But you have to look out for the sow there. She is penned, but she is fierce. I give her all the room she wants. Frankly, I am scared of her more than the bull across the road because I can outrun Mr. Bull.

This afternoon, I will walk down to Uncle Bill’s Farm and help him and Uncle Charlie bring in the cows. I like to go down there. I really like bringing in the cows. We call “here boss, here boss, boss boss boss” softly, softly. And they come. They come ever so slowly, their bells ringing. They come at their own pace lowing so sweetly.

I can imagine my mom doing the same things since all the elders have told me about her cow choir. She was a lonely only. But I am not. I am an only. But I am not so lonely.

I am not so lonely because I live in a friendly boarding house in the city of Windsor. I am not lonely cuz I have a whole big family there. Lots of people to read stories with. And best of all, I can bake lots of pies with Aunt Lexie. And some of these apples will end up in one of those pies. But only the ones that are still on the tree. The ones on the ground belong to the bees.

The orchard holds memories of so many other autumns. Autumns when I was not here because I am 5 years old. I can imagine what it was like here at the farm in the long ago. The long ago when my mom was a little girl like me. A little girl without a Dad.

So what do you think? Should I continue with this piece or just leave it as is?

Do you ever sit down for 10 minutes and just write freely?

If you try with this prompt, please let me know. And if you feel comfortable doing so, share it with me.

I found the exercise was a delightful excursion into the sweetness of life which I need to do more often in this world that is on fire. And that little space has lingered as I go about doing what needs doing and trying to let go. I hope you have found ways to renew and refresh. Be well. Go gently. Stay curious.