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Thursday, November 5, 2009

November drabbles - 5

Monday morning…

They dropped anchor Saturday and longed for shore. But Sunday’s the Lord’s Day with more important matters. Then Monday morning…

The little boat, so close to the waves, felt lost at Mayflower’s side. They staggered, stumbled down and sat, hugged tools to their chests and babies to the breast. Oars squealed, splashed bitter spray sweetened with land. Wet sand and grassland. Glorious cloudless sky.

Ducks flew and geese. Dinner! And mussels grew against the rocks. (Ah, and muscles were weakened later that day; eating them a mistake.)

Then sweet fresh water bubbled in a pond. Monday. Washing day.

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