has dark skin and watchful eyes. An immigrant boy. A migrant. We are all of us the one and conflicted over the other. He picks dandelions and twines them into a braid. His father digs carrots and picks lettuce. His arms are brown and muscled and ready for work. The morning is misty and overcast, and the fields are muddy and wet, but the boy is barefoot and learning our ways.
14 comments:
Packs quite a punch for a short piece. That line "We are all of us the one and conflicted over the other" is telling.
Judy, South Africa. Win full ms critique or US$100 Amazon voucher
Judy,
Thanks!! And thanks for the link. I'm always ready for a critique.
Love the title, too!
great imagery!
Hi Frances,
Thank you!
Jemi,
Oh...thanks!
Wonderful writing… The imagery and care expressed so well.
BTW: I haven’t forgotten. I’ve just had a few too many interruptions lately. SL is still percolating, waiting for my time.
Hi Tony,
Thanks so much. And I knew you hadn't forgotten about Still Life. I understand about interruptions. It sometimes seems like life is one big interruption!
You capture a lot in this. "watchful eyes" tells me he is soaking in his new environment and will survive it. Nicely caught moment in time.
I love what I can see from your words.
Tricia,
Thank you.
Liza,
Thanks!
He is learning our ways...
Is it wrong to say I don't want him to? Is it wrong to say I like his ruddy arms and barefoot feet? Is it wrong to say we've not got it right...at all, and there are better ways than shirts and shoes?
Such a beautiful piece!
Annie,
No, you aren't wrong. That's exactly what I was trying to convey. Thank you so much.
Nice article, thanks for the information.
Sewa,
Thank you. Nice to meet you.
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