Completely unaware of the electrical impulses she was made up of

She sat in her broken chair

Firing like an uninterrupted 30 foot piston powered endlessly

Catalyzing it’s own velocity exponentially through friction

This piston generated an intertwined stream of physiological and psychological need

This need pulled together various and necessary components to complete a thought in her head

Said thought needed a place to go and was running out of time

Said thought alerted the troops, established an objective, built a strategy

Strategy was the foundation of the very necessary action

The total synergy of the full process supercharged muscle groups

She lifted her arms, eyes gazing at the screen as if it were a clean slate

Her index finger on the “F”

Her other index finger on the “J”

Everyone else fell into place

She began to fuse the organic process

It’s causes, it’s effects, with the rest of us

Trying to find the exit

Tags: 47, chair, forty seven, keyboard, keystrokes, poetry, rich harris, short story, typing

We rolled up not sure if it was gonna rain or not. The past few days had been the largest tears I’ve seen mother nature cry in years. Once we entered the trail I immediately understood her grief. Fitted only with the most organic of green uniforms were the fallen. They had been witness to twice as much history as I. Often referred to as nature’s pillars of strength. The blood of these fallen continue to give new life to others.

We looked all around us and what used to be nothing but vertical stretches straight up into the sky, were now a scattered heap of limbs cross-crossing one another. It was a truly phenomenal experience witnessing the aftermath of her most recent tirade. We felt it coming for the last couple years and knew that this year she would probably deliver.

And she did.

Tags: 47, california, fall creek trail, felton, hiking, poetry, prose, rich harris, stories, trails