Drabble #18: Shortbread

short on butter again, the scone sat unfinished on her plate.  a wounded monk in the crossfire of desire and reality. 

she sat pouting, staring at the monstrosity of sweet bread like one might a snoring bedfellow.  not enough butter.  cheap.

overall, she decided, she preferred biscuits over bread.  savory or sweet, didn't much matter the kind of bread, there was hardly ever enough butter.  but biscuits came with built in buttery goodness.

shortbread, she thought, then. 

that is what she would have next time.  yes.  forget the scones and lack of butter.  she'd have a biscuit with her tea.

Drabble #17: Mercy

mercy grows in the dessert

between the grains of sand
too small to see with even a microscope

mercy grows in between the cracks

and splinters of old shingles
still clinging to the sheds after hurricanes

mercy grows in the heart of the man

who spent his weekend rescuing tiny kittens
after he saw one fall out of a tree

mercy grows in the front seat

of the family car where dad is sat
counting to ten for the tenth time today

mercy grows in.  and out.  and around

in unexpected patterns, just like ivy.
or mulch after a tornado.

Drabble #16: Juxtaposition

http://www.artisticmoods.com/art-print-by-lieke-van-der-vorst/

please don't be so sad. we are all the same.
we fix our selves against imagination and the selves of others.

squatting between look and touch, the smooth of the cool light blue on white with a matching saucer and the warmth of the tattered soft black fur around our paws.  the sweet insides of this one and the burning bitterness inside the other. 

we juxtapose our selves and each other.  the exterior calm against the coal fires burning inside.

we want to be the white porcelain tea cup, but we're really a big black bear.  and we are lost.