Donna Goings

A Short Short Story

Bam! I was startled by the sound. The force seemed to shake the house. The cats sat up at attention. I saw the lone feather and I was sad. Maybe he flew away.

But, alas, morning came. I saw the remains. Scattered. Some nocturnal hunter feasted on the easy bounty provided by a double-paned window.



I watched her.

She had picked the place.

She felt secure there.

Now she is busy building.

Not just any twig will do.

She picks through a pile of straw.

And gathers.

Different lengths, different strengths.

She knows what is needed.

To create the space

Where her eggs will be laid.

She knows what is needed.

Like Ms. Robin

We know what is needed.

But often,

Unlike her,

We let it go.



The Trap

Who set the trap

Where I find myself today?

I’m caught, for sure,

Caged in.

I must have lost my way.

Where was I headed

Before I stepped in the trap?

Where is that road?

Where is my map?

The GIS is broken

I’m at a dead-end.

Foot in trap.

How to again begin?



The famed American melting pot has boiled over.

The milky white has soured the mix.

Thought to be the supreme ingredient, it has ruined the whole.

The welcoming lady in the harbor is no more.

America has closed and chained itself in a putrid jail.

The madman jailer fools the masses into believing that they are free.

The bars keeping others out fence them in.

Joyously they march around

Unable to see the barriers keeping them locked up with their hatreds.



Donna Goings

Donna Goings

Lives in Charlottesville VA. Sells real estate. Former teacher.