Monday Morning #Haiku 139 & 140 — Brush Pile

brush-pile

Dead pile of sticks
masks inner community:
toads, insects, spiders.

Brush pile tangle
haven for songbirds to feast;
no hawks admitted.

Friday Fictioneers — Troll

Frost on a stump. Sandra Crook.

The girl stepped out from behind a beech tree, her hair a crest of gold. ‘Over that bridge lies forever-winter.’ Icy breath twirled out of her mouth, although she stood in the sunshine. She pointed towards a frosted glade full of broken stalks, clumped grass, and bedraggled seed-heads, all glazed with frost.

‘It’s in the shade, that’s all,’ I said.

‘I dare you to touch that stump in the middle.’

I crossed the stream and crunched over the white, sure I was heading towards the gnarled remains of an ancient alder tree, until it winked, yawned, and swallowed me whole.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 words stories
Photo Prompt: image (c) Sandra Crook