This was a short fiction piece resulting from a grab bag exercise. My 10 words were: grass, catch, globe, frost, lake, fashion, tight, ghost, hole, shore
Glorious was the morning that shone brightly before Aman's weakening eyes. From the very spot where he stood every morning at this time - a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other - he watched the blades of grass catch fire with icy hues of blue, frost settling on their thin, frail lines. Winter was upon his world again, and his lush green pastures were transforming, the fields having been plowed for the last time, left to rest under the dome of nature's snow globe. His chest compressed tightly on a lungful of smoke that escaped through his nose like a ghost, fading into cold morning air.
He looked around for his cane, which he had fashioned out of an old fishing pole, and found it leaning against the trunk of his favorite tree. He readied himself mentally for the journey ahead, a walk that for Aman was growing increasingly difficult with the passing of each day. From here, he would follow the path carved by his own hardened feet over the course of many years - ten winding kilometers through his ancient land, until the magnificent hills dipped unto the shores of what once was a deep and bountiful lake.
What remained of it now was no more than a watering hole, one that froze too quickly and was home to too few fish. Until it fully disappeared though, a watering hole it would be - sustaining his heard of thinning cattle, who, like Aman, were struggling to stand atop their withering limbs under the weight of the encroaching season.
Chicago-born citizen of the globe, rich in the things that really matter. Let's get weird.