Lark Hanshan

Joined August 2022

58 stories

Bio

A quiet West Coast observer. Writing a sentence onto a blank page and letting what comes next do what it must.

Achievements (7)

Stories (58)

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A'wander. Honorable Mention in The Sound of First Frost Challenge.
slowly ascending, unwrapping, enveloping, a marvel the dawn bloom to pink lemonade sunrise firework shine of autumn, explosion of colour brought
By Lark Hanshan2 months ago in Poets
Verglas Vision
Tilting, lilting, she with every step upon us spreads her frozen flush. Tip-toed over, we crisp from cold and shiver
By Lark Hanshan2 months ago in Poets
Blueberry babies
We are squealing out in the field, limbs akimbo and the blueberry buckets sit between our feet, warmed by august sun.
By Lark Hanshan3 months ago in Poets
Untangling little pieces of self. Top Story - September 2025.
“You’re like me,” my partner says. “A floater.” I’m on the outside, looking in. “You might not have been with me if you’d fit in a mold. I might not have been with you.”
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Humans
Seasonal slippage
Breath caught on an in, A patchworking of crimson Cascades, sheets and shakes
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
Bereft, but free
Sparse are the branches You have left to the winter Flicker, fallen, all
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
In the blinkening
Detach, linger, drop Freeze as a moment in time Leaf, herald of fall
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
Keep the bugs warm
Twirl, leaf, swirl, flitter, down to the damp and the moss. Sleep, nourish the earth
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
Thoughts from a classroom
Maybe if it drifts Into the open window Summer won’t feel far
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
Flockleaf
Fly high, dip, dive low Into the eaves and gutters Leave the trees to stretch
By Lark Hanshan4 months ago in Poets
Blossom. Honorable Mention in You Were Never Really Here Challenge. Content Warning.
“Do not stand by my grave and weep. I am not there; I do not sleep.” The starting lines from a well-known bereavement poem by Clare Harner, read by old Louis Wright up at the church pulpit. His left hand trembles around his wrinkled order of service while he reads off the rest of the poem, his right clenches and unclenches in his pant pocket.
By Lark Hanshan6 months ago in Fiction
Anthropomorphism. Top Story - June 2025.
It’s distressing, you know? While thinking aloud, I stumbled upon an unexpected epiphany. Maybe the way I’d been taking care of you had been a roundabout way to care for myself. That certainly wasn’t the intent, but in the long term that’s how it turned out to be.
By Lark Hanshan7 months ago in Fiction