The hollow tree sits at the edge of the clearing, orange-red dot condemning it, but for now, a squirrel rests in a woodpecker-widened hole and mushroom scale its trunk, rising up from soft moss at its feet.
The boy pointed out the tree, and each of his friends looked into the hollow of the trunk. “I can’t see anything,” one boy said. “Keep your head it and your eyes will get accustomed to the dark.” In a moment, he said, “Wow. How beautiful.”
Chanpheng
In the hollow of my hand rests a pebble smooth from the water moving quick as a hummingbird over ages of sky and earth. It is my fate held tightly until I loosen my grip.
The hollow tree sits at the edge of the clearing, orange-red dot condemning it, but for now, a squirrel rests in a woodpecker-widened hole and mushroom scale its trunk, rising up from soft moss at its feet.
The boy pointed out the tree, and each of his friends looked into the hollow of the trunk. “I can’t see anything,” one boy said. “Keep your head it and your eyes will get accustomed to the dark.” In a moment, he said, “Wow. How beautiful.”
In the hollow of my hand rests a pebble smooth from the water moving quick as a hummingbird over ages of sky and earth. It is my fate held tightly until I loosen my grip.