My walking partner is annoyingly vertical, and visual, always holding me back, saying, “Günter, look at the..!” “Here…!”
I ignore her. Looking only tells you what is there now.
But smelling tells you the history, and the future. Beautiful odors. Neighbor walked by yesterday after me. I will correct that now. The yippy little neighbor visited earlier today. We walk on, immersed in our different worlds.
Heavy air foretells another storm. A nervous old man sat on this bench. Four different geese, a mouse, a squirrel. Wait…wait…
Yes! There! Heaven! Bach! The Sistine Chapel!
A dead frog!
Martha Nance is a physician in Minnesota who occasionally writes, usually briefly. She has had a few pieces published previously, in journals such as Dreamer’s Creative Writing, Intima, The Tiny Seed Journal and Poet’s Haven Digest.
The Centifictionist 
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