Under midnight moon / a snow lantern glows, warming / the path to my door. ~me

Several posts on 100 Word Story Anthology reference home—either directly or temporarily or metaphorically. See what you think.

Pat Horner (artist, writer, editor, publisher) contributes to 100 Word Story Anthology with “3313.” We’re also taking 100 Word Story Anthology to WordPress. The site will feature a follow tab for email updates each time a new story’s posted. Stay tuned for more info, and thanks so much for supporting 100 Word Story Anthology and the wonderful contributors who create so much with only 100 words.

Against charcoal sky / shadows of tangled branches / fading into dusk.  –country

The distant lamp posts / now flecks of jade and honey / in winter twilight.  –city

This morning I snapped this iPhone shot of prayer flags at the monastery on top of Mead’s Mountain. Happy New Year!

And here’s a haiku from yesterday:

In the last mild hours / before a new year’s first breath / raindrops in sunlight.

On stark promenade / grape vines and tea lights become / a walk of angels.

The grandmother tells / stories of girlhood Christmas / her hands kneading dough.

Pine shadows drifting / across lavender snow peaks / winter mountain dusk.

Beeswax candles and / crisp molasses ginger snaps / Christmas scents linger.

Beneath the hemlock / a field of frosted gemstones / winter’s illusions.

My first guest contributor at #100WordStory saves lives by day (seriously) but has always been one of my favorite writers. Check out the site-in-progress and enjoy!         100 Word Story Anthology

Waking up early / to a midnight shade of dawn / –city lights through fog. ~me, city

Dark equals daylight / hours filled commuting in rain / –only car lights shine. ~me, city

Layered winter clouds / lifted once she hike the crest / of Bluff’s mountain path. ~me, country

While waiting to cross Fifth Avenue near Fendi, a woman noticed a forgotten ribbon dropped on the sidewalk. There was something about the color of the fabric, a cool lilac, her favorite shade, that seemed appropriate to the day.

The light turned. Nudged forward by the crowd and the enthusiasm of Santa’s shrill bell ringing, she stepped off the curb and heard a stranger whisper, “Beyond snow angels / and glittering shop windows / –a quiet park bench.”

The traffic cop motioned frantically, so the woman kept walking. She looked back and saw a man smiling—holding the ribbon.

(Inspired by an overheard story with completely different details.)

Painters, photographers, film makers, writers, musicians, video artists: The Woodstock Artists’ Salon welcomes everyone. Drop by tonight if you’re in the area.

Artists Salon

This Thursday
December 1st at 7:00pm

A message from co-founder Lenny Kislin about the Salon:

“About a year ago Yale Epstein and I came up with a concept for a Woodstock Artists’ Salon. Our goal was to gather many of our area’s visual artists together once a month to discuss our lives within the contexts of our individual creative existences; what is art, why do wemake it, how do we attempt to make livings at it, what can we learn from each other, etc.?

With the co-sponsorship of the Woodstock Artists Association & Museum and the Woodstock Chamber of Commerce we’ve enjoyed a series of meetings which have served to enlighten all attendees in many surprising ways, but our appetites have grown.

We now seek to gain more insights into the worlds of other creators. If you are a writer, a filmmaker, a video artist, a musician or performer, etc., we would like you to join us. We look forward to seeing and learning more about you.”

Yesterday there were clashes downtown. I worry about the safety of the protestors, the police and New Yorkers walking to work or to the park or to school. These ideas came to me this morning:

POLARIZING IS INEFFICIENT.

MAKE A PIECE OF ART THAT DESCRIBES YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES.

WRITE IT. PAINT IT. PHOTOGRAPH IT. SPEAK IT. BUILD IT. SING IT.

SHARE IT WITH SOMEONE YOU TRUST.

THEN ASK YOURSELF WHAT’S NEXT.

11.17. 2011 protest: “On the Brooklyn Bridge / chanting faces gather light / –I wait, distanced, home.”

Sideways: Today’s New York Times