Wood For The Trees

Daniela glared at the machinery. “Shut it down Ted.” “It’s over?” “That’s science, sometimes right, sometimes wrong. Shame it took thirty-nine years.” “What now?” “Scrap the lot.”   Empty freeway, Chicago’s lights fading behind. Four billion people will never know I’ve tried. She turned the radio up, headlights swaying with Benny Goodman. I need a … Continue reading Wood For The Trees


Sitting. Waiting. Solitude. Encased, locked, released only by my hand, mine and only mine. Once perfect now scarred, scratched, dented. Used – and at times – abused. Her worn exterior speaks of bond and lasting beauty. Cold, wooden, lifeless at first. Slowly warming under my hand, flowing, stretching. In fading light through darkness, dying night … Continue reading Maton