http://slow.writerscafe.org/DanielEakin The original writings of author Daniel Eakin en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775552316 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The boy runs into the street and seems alright.  The birds are singing and no cars are around.  The sun shines overhead.  There is something odd concerning the boy, but what it is was unknown.  He walks now down the sidewalk past an abandoned house, which he for no reason enters... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1171223/ The cloud floats on air of blue.  It is made of water dew.  The more it floats, the more it soaks, when the rains come due.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1167865/ Blueroses sit on peach-yellow sills.Greenleaves bask in white sunlight.Themorning sun wakes up the land. Theclouds are like the wool of a lamb.Pinktulips rise from brown earth.Theymake the task seem easy.Blueroses sit on peach-yellow sills.Greenleaves .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1144040/ Write to communicate, yes.  Nevertheless, write with honor.  Leave an honorable legacy with your written words. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1140176/ I am myself and am not you.  I am neither them.  I may be like you or them and within perchance the same groupings.  Nonetheless, I am myself.  We must understand who we are and who we are not. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1140174/ The long departure of a man from a haunted house. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1136269/ Icy rain pitter-pattersfrom a leaden firmament on a January eve in Seattle 1919.  It hits upon the window pane of the office ofDr. James Monroe.  He is a somewhat ayoung man, in the field of psychotherapy. His patient is Mrs. Ellie Braunsen. She sits apprehensiv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1132092/ I hike through the woods with the fir trees, pines near andfar, clothed in moss, giving a sense of mystery.  While I cautiously step around roots androcks, also take in the sense of serenity. I pace myself with comfort and enjoyment in mind, yet still somewhatbriskly.  I f.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1132089/ A brief prose-like poem about a garden. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/DanielEakin/1132087/