A Writer’s Staccato



she had wished she could go back to the places

where she spent the night while dreaming.


she got up to drink lots of water and opened the curtains.

later she was sitting outdoors


writing, after she had read from her fourth book

that morning, that’s what she considers a lucky day.


enough peace and time to sip nectar

from the books lined up for her.


she was staring at her left thumb nail.

a bit uneven as always. wondering how


and passing her middle finger back and forth on it.

lots of ideas to put down on paper.


she sniffed the air and opened a bit her mouth

while curling up the tip of the nose


to trap the scents in.

she had learned that from cats.


her friend was laying on his side

relaxing in the sun slightly breathing.


crises passed now. he really didn’t like her

gardening attempt and her watering all around.



it looked as total relaxation. yet both had attentive

ears to the sounds around. nature yes


and someone adding sounds of car doors

slammed back and forth and motors.


starting to pull them away. to their own homes

after they had bought some groceries nearby.


she glanced at her nail once again. worried.

if she’d got up again she may lose concentration.


he could have gotten nervous by her restlessness

in spite of the beautiful day. humans.


he may lose his patience. as if

reading her mind he got up


to lay a bit further away to leave

her space. or to spy her better


from under his lowered eyelids.

she was very good at making


excuses to herself quite often.

her full potential scared her.


so she used to heed to emotions.

to create pitfalls. that’s it.


she started her first line. this time

inspiring the lemons’ scents in.


lulled by the birds singing through the air.

no one needed to read it anyway.


later she would go wash her car with her own

hands and file straight that nail.



CSTL9402 copy



This piece, originally published in 2013 under the name of “Ray’s Day”, is dedicated to Raymond Carver.


6 responses »

  1. Raymond Carver, one my favourite short story writers. ‘she was staring at her left thumb nail.

    a bit uneven as always.’ Carver set new parameters for story telling, you have to pay attention.


    • So true Dermott, he slows you down, so you can “see” things, without the baggage of too many word! Happy you like his work. Thank you for your visit and comment. 🙂


  2. Lovely.

    A moment of experience, turned into words and preserved through time,

    not lost in the sea of past Gestalts to which we have lost the way,

    unless a smell or a picture or a train of thought should lead us back there…

    during a time of peaceful reflection.

    Liked by 1 person

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