This year @WritingDani gave us a treat with a second month of ‘30 words for 30 days’. Unlike the April posts, where I wrote a series, this time I let each prompt take me in its own direction. Interestingly, I got the highest number of ‘likes’ for #3 and #6. Not sure which of the 30 is my favourite.

1

Green

Green as innocence. Fresh dew on sharp new shoots. 

Green as jealousy. Jaundiced light fading into dark shadows. 

Green as life itself, sappy and striving. Dancing, catching at the breeze.

2

Raw

I hadn’t seen them for years. Then there on the bus. We were going to the train station. They got off at the stop for the cemetery. Their faces raw.

3

Verdant

Looking back, I would describe those months with him as ‘verdant’. Lush, alive with possibility. We had nourished that time, made it plump. We must have missed some browning tendrils. 

4

Leaf

Every leaf has fallen in its own way. Gliding, or fluttering down. Every leaf, lying inert, has its own complexion. Yellows, reds, oranges. All this has happened since you left. 

5

Bitter

Only the wind is bitter on this sweet morning. I shelter on the bridge with my pirate captain as she steers us through the sharks massing below the slippery dip.

6

Square

Probably shouldn’t have put your photo in a square frame, cropping your head and the bottom of your chin. Probably shouldn’t have stood there laughing when you were behind me. 

7

Emerald

Emerald Isle? Nuh-uh. Fried eggs in grease Isle. Dusty rooms with nylon sheets Isle. What am I doing here Isle. Wanting this baby but oh should I do it Isle.

8

Lush

When the sun came out the land turned green, the grasses lush, full from days of rain. They stood tall. A flock of firetails darted in, and the wattle shivered.

9

Covet

Covetousness rises in her like bile, burning, etching a path. She turns away, feigns interest in something undesirable. But it has taken hold, uncontrollable, irrefutable. The shoes are soon hers.

10

Olive

By the end of that evening – longed for, wished for – empty glasses stood aghast. Olive pits punctured my faltering feet. Hugh had passed out long ago. So much for love.

11

Hope

Of all the mealy-mouthed yellow-bellied piss-weak utterances. Saying you ‘hope’ things will improve is right up there, mate. Improvement is yours to make, yours to take, with your lily-white hands.

12

Vegetable

‘Mum always served up burnt chops and,’ splutter, ‘vegetables boiled to mush. Then she discovered nouvelle cuisine.’ We were falling about laughing when mum’s weary face appeared in the doorway. 

13

Innocent

There’s always a time when you are innocent, and the moment (day, year) is delight. The apple beckons, the kiss is sweet. There’s always a snake, waiting to enlighten you.

14

Lime

Three years ago they were sprigs with lime-green leaves. Some have reached dark-green maturity; most have yellowed, browned or shrivelled. Still he tends them, on his knees, worshipping the box-hedge.

15

Pine

He opines. She listens. He describes. She droops. He explains. She wilts. He interprets. She dwindles. He lectures. She shrinks. He expounds. She shrivels. He remonstrates. She fades. And disappears.

16

Tender

Where had it come from, that tenderness? She’d never shown it before. It must have been hidden by her judging eyes and armoured heart. How soft it was, and pale.

17

Envy

Nothing to envy there. Sticky mouths tugging hands. Air thick with demands. But before that. The flutter within. The soft glide of life, turning and butting. My raw, buoyant wonder.

18

Moss

At this rate I’ll be putting down roots, deep into the soil. There will be moss growing between my toes. I’ll be embraced by vines before I’m in your arms.

19

Meadow

Out the back gate. Mind the nettles. Along the path by the water meadows, little chirrup of water flowing. Some of us are missing now. Some of us are gone.

20

Natural

In front of us, that girl. Woman. Frank round face, fresh strong hair. Easy smile and open eyes. The natural beauty of the young. I imagine you were like that.

21

Young

Each of the squad girls turns her cartwheel like the spokes of a wheel, smooth and inexorable, flying over the cushions on the strength of one lightly placed young hand.

22

Fir

Fir trees dot the beech forest, dark green caves of shadow. There’s a skitter of squirrels. You lead me out to the clearing where wasps grow heady on fallen apples.

23

Organic

It was organic, the way it budded and grew. Grew leaves of visibility, flowers of beauty. Beauty as its colours changed. Changed form until it dropped. Dropped back to earth.

24

Tart

Joy is startling, after those years of cardboard days. Happiness leaps out of unexpected corners, ambushes her with playful bounding. She watches it flex, running rings around her wooden legs.

25

Jade

‘Oh Paris! Done that.’ I’d never seen her so jaded. That city had been ours to get lost in, to embrace and be embraced by. She turned away, suddenly frail.

26

Pliable

Maybe a time machine could save us both from your rebellion. Memory tells me you were pliable once, in your Peter Rabbit t-shirt, your hand in mine, your feet skipping.

27

Pea

The mall appears to be deserted, lit only by flickering light. On. Off. Through the strobing a mound on the floor shifts, shuffles, changes shape. I’m not ready for this.

28

Sage

Sage tea, steeped well, is good for sore throats. Sage goes well with pork, and veal. Add it towards the end of cooking. That’s the sum total of my sagacity.

29

Mint

Only the mint has survived the rain. It sprawls where a garden was meant to flourish. Just so, your tendrils occupied my heart. My eyes were distracted by the deluge.

30

Growth

Time had passed, according to the trees and trembling vines. Their growth made the bird-pocked fruit remote. Only I had stayed the same, bitter as olive brine, sour as vinegar.