Prose: Waitin’ on the Rain

Windows open Cool air breezin’ in Rumble rumble in the sky In my belly Black coffee sputters to the top To my lips Thank you, Universe Tick tock on the clock Biscuits rising Cast iron’s hot Eggs, freshly born Freshly scrambled On my plate Kisses the smoked Pine Prairie boudin good mornin’ Last night’s farewell…

Prose: Driving Home

I try to see, but not. It’s 6:14am. Nana slings open her bedroom door. She’s later than normal. I pop out of the twin bed in what should be the dining room and limp my way into hers. I’m still feeling the effects a fairly middle-aged woman might after too much dancing, whatever that means,…