N.T. Chambers
N.T. Chambers, former teacher and therapist, writes about the emotions, events, and experiences intrinsic to the human condition. The author’s works have been published in the following magazines and journals: Grassroots, In Parentheses, You Might Need to Hear This, Nine Cloud, The Elevation Room, Wingless Dreamer, Months to Years, W.E.I.R.D, New Note Poetry, Bright Flash Literary Review, Quibble and Indolent Books.
Curbside Beauty
Unseen by most passersby accompanied solely by cigarette butts, discarded tissues or the occasional wayward ant it grew defiantly pink and green through cracked asphalt of crumbling roadway - a humble gift of color singular in its beauty among assorted street trash in a forgotten town where tourists ate café sandwiches for lunch kidding each other that they were tasty while gulping tepid iced tea poured by a yawning waitress – oblivious to the miracle just outside the door.
Onset
Desert nights never arrive in a blink - they’re gradual, like death - sneaking in unseen from places unknown but eastern to swallow the stubborn luminous skies - all the lingering pink, purple and golden hues of late afternoon ramble westward as shadows usher anxious wildlife to concealed beds offering fitful sleep while predators begin to stalk the unwary or unlucky.
Intruder
Newly fallen cones roasting in an oppressive late June sun overwhelm the senses with cloying earthy fragrances unknown to a city boy hiking the rim of a lush unexplored pine forest.
Armed only with good hiking boots – foregoing both water and compass – dumb luck and his dead reckoning would need to be sufficient.
A meandering path leads to a level valley floor surrounded by watchful hills - a solstitial concert surprises him in that moment as life hums along its usual way ignoring his momentary intrusion into a world beyond himself.
Glancing at the noonday sun sweat-laden eyebrows drizzle saltwater into blurry eyes that notice movement upwind and refocus his attention. Three white-tailed deer – a buck, his doe and fawn foraging towards him quickly awaken forgotten tree-climbing skills compelling a two hour respite while the natives lunch peacefully unconcerned about the trespasser above.
Armed only with good hiking boots – foregoing both water and compass – dumb luck and his dead reckoning would need to be sufficient.
A meandering path leads to a level valley floor surrounded by watchful hills - a solstitial concert surprises him in that moment as life hums along its usual way ignoring his momentary intrusion into a world beyond himself.
Glancing at the noonday sun sweat-laden eyebrows drizzle saltwater into blurry eyes that notice movement upwind and refocus his attention. Three white-tailed deer – a buck, his doe and fawn foraging towards him quickly awaken forgotten tree-climbing skills compelling a two hour respite while the natives lunch peacefully unconcerned about the trespasser above.
