Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • This is my computer desk.
    It sits in my foster daughter’s room.
    Her contribution to this room is the curtain.
    I liked the pastel colors she left behind
    after she ran away with her boyfriend.

    There is a goose feather in my cup holder
    from a goose bought live for Christmas over twenty years ago.
    The poor goose met his demise in one swift blow.
    My husband watched the live goose before, knowing it must be fast
    he hesitated and then with determination released the impact
    and quickly life flickered to nothing before his eyes.
    We never bought a live goose again.

    You see that rope in back of the flowers?
    The previous owner, Smith, had installed a rope ladder
    from this upstairs bedroom, in case of fire.
    He bolted it right through the stucco with big heavy bolts
    exposed beneath outside under the bedroom window.
    The bolts crumbled the stucco, and it is rather unsightly.
    Beneath this rope is this coiled rope that could withhold the weight
    of an elephant. The ladder is always in the way of the electrical outlet.
    A possible fire hazard.

    There’s my pica pole from pre-computer days when I spec'd type.
    Later it moved on to the clatter and chatter of a newsroom.
    It has my initials carved on it because people would
    always walk off with it.
    Another relic of a bygone era.

    These are roses from my garden this morning
    lightly covered in rain drops reflecting
    the window the curtains and the morning light
    the computer, the DVD’s, my computer glasses, pica pole
    and morning cup of earl grey tea.

    Looking at this still life, which has been anything but still,
    it occurred to me that what you see and what I see
    are totally different. What I see and what you see
    may not really be there at all.

    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.