Rehydration

Debbie Rolls

May was a dry month. Less than half the average rainfall. All the pubs were closed. Swimming pools were a rich man’s prerogative. I began to feel desiccated.

The sun found a chink in the cloud’s mantle. A silver line drew me towards the grey, breaking into concentric circles as I stepped forward. A parade of goslings left the reeds. A coot clacked as I lowered into its realm. I swam while watching sand martins diving, in and out, of holes. I rolled onto my back. Silhouettes of geese and gulls flying over. Bird watching and swimming; ideal companions.

Freedom (No Filter)

Jenn Linning

Arriving in the mountains, I was unsurprised to find their peaks towering over towns and cutting through clouds. I was unfazed when thundering waterfalls tumbled and crashed towards jagged jaws below.

Online films and photographs meant I was privy to these sights and sounds.

But did you know that when wind tousles your hair on a mountaintop, it isn’t an inconvenience, but a thrill? That scrambling towards a summit at sunrise doesn’t mean that anxiety has whispered to you all night, but that wonder has woken you up in the morning?

For this discovery, no screen could have prepared me.

Changeling

Charlie Novak

She weeps for her baby, long lost in the dew;
no, not the soul she lulls to sleep ever since all hells
broke loose. It howls and twirls, drinks out of eggshells;
bites and yells, knows no milk. Darling, milk is not for you;

for you is blanket of birch twigs. Ma, it would
say, staring in the distance, as if it understood
she's out there, not here. It's not its mother who
showers it with bruises, aching for a breakthrough

that will never be made in the morning mist. 
She didn't tie a red thread to her baby's wrist.

A Heart Painted Green

Kate Parker

I discovered my heart yesterday.

I found it nestled in the soft yellow pool of nectar housing lazy bees. I found it brooding in the mossy knot of an oak tree, stained emerald from a tussle with the foliage. A rustle behind me saw it peeking out from within a bed of honeysuckle, the amber perfume beckoning me with every beat.

I plunged my hands into the gauzy lacework of spiderwebs and lifted my heart. It was heavy with soil and sunlight, having sampled nature like a buffet. Now it rests in my chest, among toadstools and acorns and lungs.

Mother Nature’s Pearl

Laura Varney

Blue sky powdered with clouds shone through dappled shade, camouflaging us from heron fishing from the bank.

Exploring firstly along the canal path, then climbing, lungs bursting, gasping purified air, we were reminded of past challenges.

Above the treetops, breezes tousling our hair, Mother Nature opened her shell, revealing the sacred pearl we had been denying ourselves.

“See what you have been missing, holed-up in your office worshipping money and status, your fools' gold.  I lay before you my treasures: wildflowers and fields, hills and valleys, birds and butterflies,” she said.

Discovering our place in her plan; priceless.

The members of the Globe Soup Writing Group chose ‘A Heart Painted Green’ as the winner. Congratulations to Kate Parker and to all the finalists!