A drabble is a piece of fiction constrained to exactly one-hundred words. I use these short works to hone my brevity.
Mistress Spring swings onto the scene, a queen dressed in white and green.
Daddy Winter yields the floor with mute pointers.
The body serving as centrepiece smiles despite trembling.
Each of its twitches expresses how they soared so close to the limits of its endurance.
Spring has lofty ambitions: to make the body relinquish its suffering.
To let the roar in its head die down.
Until birdsong and idle noise remains.
How many hours would it take?
Summer comes, ready for a turn with the communal toy.
It would be a long year... or the longest day?
Time means nothing anymore.