http://slow.writerscafe.org/pickletheplacid The original writings of author Pickletheplacid en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776011722 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 the highs and lows http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/2788427/ ..perched on distant reflective peaks dark storm clouds whisper... and so it begins.... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/2461699/ To my best friendWho made me a fatherSaved me from becoming someone I'd never want to be.You have always been thereAnd will, to the end..................................................  Life gets in the wayTo say sometimes how much I love you never eventualitiesI may hold.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1844369/ The hide out had come to be my second home, the shallow ditch now molded to the silhouette of my body. From where, 12 hours a day I surveyed, fed and slumbered.Strategically tied off branches gave me a panoramic view stretching along the access road to the sleepy smoke bellowing cottage below.Nightf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1645876/ I rested the bike up against the out shed then crouching low and set the heavy pack down on the dirt. My position was out of sight from both the access track and cottage, I knew this was the point of no return and as such my most vulnerable to back out, so in a scurry I fumbled to put the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1612509/ The observation post had come to be my second home, the shallow ditch now molded to the silhouette of my body. From where, 12 hours a day I surveyed, fed and slumbered.Strategically tied off branches gave me a panoramic view stretching along the access road to the sleepy smoke bellowing cottage belo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1607691/ On this native beach I see,The strangest vessel so near to me,I make a weapon out of stone, To protect those who may be thrown,Gather children all alone and stand my ground to welcome home.These men that kiss the sand, only have one hand.I hear a cry that tells me to die,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1607464/ We began, insignificant, born to early times,Nomadic, living to every season,Natural wonders becoming spirit gods.In time, unannounced, slightly significant we fed generations,Critical mass bled design and function,Monumental creations with unknown purpose.New age spawn purchase an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1606895/ Like salted snails, clandestine and reflective we crowd,In lingering queues, making the exchange,Belongings weighed, conveyored they go,Issued ticket, folded and safely stowed,Time and announcement awakes a standing sleep,Herded again to board the bird,Tight pressed, abrasive arms, obe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/pickletheplacid/1581727/