Andrea Corwin
Bio
🐘Wildlife 🌳 Environment 🥋3rd° See nature through my eyes
Poetry, fiction, horror, life experiences, and author photos. Written without A.I. © Andrea O. Corwin
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Stories (435)
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S-Day September 19
Over the past few months, I have struggled to focus on writing. After two trips to Europe in early summer, I finally wore out the remaining cartilage in my left knee. The meniscus had torn years earlier. The X-ray and MRI images showed that my ACL was destroyed. I had compensated by constantly tightening my thigh muscles, which added extra strain to the connecting ligaments. The left hip was replaced in 2016. That strain probably added to issues with the left knee.
By Andrea Corwin 4 months ago in Longevity
Don't Stand
Seated in the bow of the red canoe, it glides silently along beside floating cormorants. We slip beneath the overhang of lush, emerald-green leaves clinging tightly to the tree branches that tug at my hair, while worries clutch my mind. Maryland feels like uncharted territory to me - what could be hidden in the green fingers brushing through my hair? Ticks or black widow spiders? Are water snakes lurking in the murky, slow-moving current?
By Andrea Corwin 4 months ago in Poets
Continuing On
Are you being overly sensitive to impatient tones? Probably. Silence might follow and stop the conversation with a friend and avoid feeling the intense anger a partner can cause. That connection with a partner seems harder to break, but a friendship could fall apart – you know those tender, hurt feelings! So, you don’t lay fury on friends.
By Andrea Corwin 4 months ago in Poets
DeNero, Lucille and The Triplets
I first saw DeNero while at the medical mall for an appointment. His swagger and occasional meanness resembled those of many characters Robert De Niro has played, so everyone started calling him DeNero. He and his life mate, Lucille, have their own care team, including a veterinarian. In just two seconds and two strokes (which I can't see because his webbed feet are underwater), pure white DeNero crosses the pond to chase away the drab Canadian geese he hates. They scramble out of the pond, honking loudly.
By Andrea Corwin 5 months ago in Fiction
