Micki arranges soft thoughts as leaves in a row. She nestles each leathery notion in her palm and strokes it, lays them upside down like canoes at the water's edge. They're buoyant prayers waiting for a push of invisible swirl— an airy finger's flick to set them going across the lake. Tonight she'll take deep breaths, pluck yellow petals from a wild flower, lay them next to the stubs of driftwood in her nightstand drawer. She'll keep some there, then tomorrow float the rest.
Mike Lane is an advertising art director, and a happily married father of three who lives near Milwaukee Wisconsin. He especially likes the summer months, BBQing, football and ice cream. In fact he likes ice cream so much he had to quit buying it. Oh yes, he loves reading and writing poetry also. Mike's poems have previously appeared in Soundzine, Third Wednesday and Poetry Super Highway.
