Spate and Salt | Haiku

From fresh to saltwater today in a couple of haiku…

A river rushing over boulders and pebbles.

Spate

Through spate and death-drought,

Boulders rounded, pebbles smoothed –

Cold river-crafted.

Salt

Salt murmurations.

Tops and troughs, feeling, pressing,

Weaving sea walls, slow.

Thanks for reading, folks. Second image courtesy of Greg Hartmann. My recent short stories include ‘Bellahouston‘ and ‘Echoes‘.

Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, and Shooter magazine. He has a Professional Doctorate in Education. Matthew blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com.

Dropping | Creative Nonfiction

Beginnings in the crags, where the mist skeins slide over rubbled morain, where the clouds purple and brood. The water is nowhere and everywhere, tinkling and spidered under the stones, the little rivulets caught between plains of sky and scree.

Continue reading →

Stream of Consciousness

Most landscape features prefer to be viewed only in the bravado of their present. They have an assumed past, an anticipated future. We rivers aren’t like that. There is no room for rumination or conjecture. Like the path of a raindrop down a windowpane, you can trace my journey with a fingertip. Continue reading “Stream of Consciousness” →