DAD DIGS

What’s dad doing out there in the garden?

He’s digging a pit for the compost!

I thought you said he didn’t want to do it!

Oh, he suddenly felt he wanted to do it.

I also thought you said that he felt that was not the right place to do so too!

Yep, but suddenly he felt it was right to dig there.

How in the world did you get him to agree to it!

I gave him a sudden motivation to dig there!

How did you do that?

I told him there was a treasure buried there – by his mother!

*I couldn’t resist writing this when I saw the photo captioned as ‘Russell Working’!
*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt ©Connie Gayer
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MORNING GLORY

This is my writing station, my morning meditation and prayer closet. Nothing like a few minutes alone each morning. There is something quietening about rising early and sitting down with a cup of coffee in my hand.

The house is silent with only the sounds of peaceful repose wrapping themselves around me. Restfulness seeps into my soul as I sit there in the coolness of the day and greyness of the dawn. Its then I soar into the heavenlies on wings of the morning.

A new insight, a strengthening and a birthing happen – artefacts of the heart and mind!

*I just published my first book and released it online. It is an artefact of the morning!
Point to note: Our FF leader Rochelle has written a recommendation for it!

TEACH US TO PRAY: Decoding the Lord’s Prayer!
https://www.amazon.in/dp/B078HC586X/ref=cm_sw_r_other_apa_i_YGVbBbW2ECG2E
*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt © ROCHELLE WISOFF-FIELDS

WALK IN

How can she talk like that to me? Who does she think she is?

What are you ranting about?

You know that problem I spoke to you about? It is a continuation of it. I am sick of trying to explain. Going to cut her out.

You know the problems she is going through. Give her some space.

Does it give her the right to target me? I am not her punching bag!

Sure. Why don’t you just bear with her?

You are siding with her against me!

I’m just saying put yourself in her shoes and have some consideration!

*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.

DIVINE DEAL

The divine deal made us His very own,
Living to flavor the lives in the town,
To lighten the faces that sport a frown,
So His Father ‘s glory would be known!

The divine deal has given to us a kind master,
Who leads to green pastures & still waters,
What care do we fear when He is our provider,
Just seek His pleasure and no other treasure!

The divine deal has sealed us with His Name,
Making us truly the community of His fame.
With right attitudes we can truly bear His surname
With loving zeal let us be aflame!

Live this life with the standards of His Word,
That we might be the people of His eternal world.
Let that which is external not be our keyword
As we wait for Him crowned the only true Lord!

                        Sabina Tagore Immanuel
*Photo is courtesy unsplash.com

REVISITING MEMORIES

This stream that provided water for the house was our summer haunt.

Our every waking moment would be spent in the water. Our parents were relieved that we were out of their hair the whole day.

The only time they would get to see us was during meals. They knew we were safe here, without disturbing or being disturbed!

We would hurtle down the stone steps, in a hurry to get to the water. A great place to have fun while being cooled!

All gone now, with the grandparents, buried in dirt & decay. Its a good thing we are selling!

*Friday Fictioneers is talented group of enthusiasts penning down a story, a poem, a prose, etc., expressing their heart about a photo prompt, every week. Thanks for this week’s photo prompt © Karen Rawson