A nonfiction short short story about a cardinal I saw try to go through the same window countless times.
I'm just going to add a prompt here for all of my lovely readers to complete at will. My own response will be in the comments section below once I finish, and I would love for you to either add on to it or to write a new one.
I was reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce a couple weeks ago, and there is this scene where he wakes up with half of a Villanelle formed in his head. The point of this post is my curiosity at the form of the villanelle. If you can do the villanelle well, it is a beautiful and comforting cadence of rhyme and line. I am including three villanelles below for your enjoyment and discussion.