There once was a post by D.G. Kaye about “trainstorming,”–beginning a new sentence with the first word of the last. I did it before. This is a little more. You’ll see. I didn’t keep the prompts from last week’s Gila Writer’s Group but I believe that I took no more than a word but at least never a line from any of them.
Cycles, bicycles and icicles. The messenger climbs the hill to see a serpent coldly coiled in the sun wishing for mice in the clover. Clover is a funny name for a machine brewing coffee. Coffee that might better have a flavor of clover-derived honey. Honey that drips into the baristas brew. Brew-Thru, the drive-through beer vendor in Kill Devil Hills, near Nags Head. Heads are not so common on the Outer Banks. Banks that ripped the hulls from ships for centuries past. Ships that brought the coffee beans to North America from South America, like Colombia. Colombia’s beans that are in the grind of my cafe mocha with the cacao beans.
Cycles come round. I am drinking enough of the espresso drink to profit from the punch card. The card that will give me a freebie after I buy twelve, at Sunrise Espresso in Silver City. The icicles are gone now, as weather warms, but the bicycles will return soon for the Tour of the Gila.