I Reach

I reach

For stars
For dreams
For people

I reach to people
I try to guide them
I hope to be guided by them

I reach

I don’t always connect
Or sometimes I connect
Without knowing

Blinded by distance
By resistance
By dreams

We reach

And two Clouds find us
Connect us
One born of circuitry
One of spirituality

We reach
And teach
Each other

Moon Landing

#MoonLanding #Apollo #1969 #moon

1969

I hear their voices
all of them
calling from across years
like so many shooting stars
slipping in on 8millimeter film
the edges brown
burnt from flying too close
to the bulb
to the sun
with Icarus in a galaxy of milk

I hear them
in the whisper of brushing leaves
sand sifting in the dunes
rolling in the wake of a sleeping bear
giggle of the girl I used to be
toes in the surf
in the great saltless sea

I pick up a piece of smooth shale
see it skip
like the man on the moon
the black and white picture
lined with static
despite rabbit ears and foil
and all of us holding hands
skipping over generations
the gap forgotten
the hippies and Marine brush-cut men
and boys and women in kerchiefs
and me
a tow-headed little girl in thrall
to a TV with bad reception
skipping over images
like a needle across vinyl
the record warped
from a flood of great saltless tears
when heaven wept
and I slept
dreaming dreams of Martian sand

-Debra Kraft

For Dad

January 29, 1934 – April 17, 2018

Dad, you gave me a love of the water. My favorite times were in in our first little wooden boat, named for each of us. When Kadie plowed through the waves, the floorboards jumped and rattled. I held on tight and giggled with glee, delighted in the feel of the spray on my face.

I still love that feeling. I love being in a small boat, as close as I can be to the waves, where I can run my hand through the water. The squeal of gulls overhead, the smell of crisp air and seaweed, the lapping of waves against the hull: these small delights give me clarity.

What I saw these same delights give to you were smiles. And peace. The water was home to you. It was your birthright. And I feel a sense of wholeness knowing you’re home. You’re where you belong, where you can find peace and completeness, plying the waves to Valhalla and beyond.

I miss you here beside me, but all I need do to feel your hand in mine is to run my fingers through the water.

Go with peace, Dad. Delight in the feel of the spray against your face and the squeal of gulls…or is that just the sound of giggling little girls riding your wake?

Frontier Tales

My western genre short story, “Unmasked,” will be appearing in the May edition of Frontier Tales. I hope you’ll check it out, along with May’s other offerings.

And please vote for your favorite, even if it’s for a different story by another author. Western literature is a dying breed, but Frontier Tales aims to keep it alive. I hope you’ll consider helping out by reading and voting.

http://frontiertales.com

Short Story sets the Stage for More

My new short story, “Unmasked,” introduces two characters who each have stories to tell. I anticipate these two to inspire a novel, or at least a collection of additional short stories in the not-too-distant future. Stay tuned for more about the U.S. Marshal with a tragic past and the grieving sheriff’s boy he’s escorting to prison.

Unmasked is available now via Smashwords, and coming soon to other ebook retailers, as a free download.

Free Short Story: Umasked

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Unmasked is available today via Smashwords, and coming soon to other ebook retailers, as a free download.

William Charles Milton Wilcox II left a life of privilege to round up outlaws on dusty trails. As he tells his latest charge, “Everyone changes who he is at one time or another.” But true change requires something more than truncating his name and pinning on a marshal’s badge. One night the ghosts of his past catch up with him when he shares his campfire with an outlaw unlike any other he’s been duty bound to escort to prison. Now U.S. Marshal Milt Wilcox must confront the man he is, and discover the man he wants to become.