Dusk–dVerse Haibun Monday

Dusk

Photo: Victoria Slotto

 

Desert evenings have a beauty all their own. Most every day we enjoy a sunset that stuns us with its wonder. Hummingbirds vie for their place at our feeders, mama and daddy lead their ducklings for an evening swim as twilight colors dance on the water’s ripples. It is still warm, but cool enough to sit out on the patio and soak in beauty, sip a glass of wine and give thanks for the blessings of another day of life.

Photo: David Slotto

Have you noticed the beauty of an aged person’s evening hours? Fine lines, wrinkles tell stories of both joy and sorrow. Of life. Crevassed lips that have loved, whispered, cursed, blessed, sinned, asked forgiveness and forgiven turn up in smiles, down in sadness—likely both, at one time or another. But most often, it is in the eyes that you read the nuances of a life well-lived. There you will find clarity, serenity, wisdom and acceptance. Acceptance of loss, of failure, but especially of the realization that there has been love. May this be so for each of us.

hawk swoops in, alights
mama duck shelters her young
at dawn, three remain

This week I’m happy to host dVerse Monday Haibun. The Kigo is CHIJITSU, lingering day. Please join us with your Haibun of two or three terse paragraphs followed by a seasonal haiku.

 

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Dawn

Photo: Lip Kee
Labeled for non-commercial use.

Dawn

Graceful egret,
balanced on the crest of beauty,
you search deep, silent
waters.

Your body,
lithe, though fragile,
stretches toward the sky,
touches the unknown.

Alone,
though not alone,
you reach out those
wide, white wings
and soar.

Soon enough,
we shall follow.

For my lovely, loving cousin, Juanita.

dVerse Quadrille–Assault

Wikipedia Commons
Labeled for non-commercial reuse

Assault

A Quadrille

Words force entry,
molest every conscious thought—
then, surrender, I must,
or endure unrelenting torture.

(Flames rage, out-
rage across our valley,
scorch acres
of pine, cheat grass–
assault, blast,
torment
verdant mountain ranges
where wild life
surrenders)

Burning out-of-control,
Words hound me
like fire.

Posted for dVerse Quadrille where we are to write a poem of exactly 44 words that must include the word FIRE. Please join us.

Moon Muse–dVerse OLN

For dVerse OLN, I’m bringing a Quadrille with all the words thus far in the 2nd cycle.

Photo: David Slotto

Moon Muse
(a Quadrille with all the words as of 3/2/18)

Full moon murmurs,
“Come.”
My heart leaps. I rise,
her poem burning inside.
She begs,
“Write.”
With a bounce in my step,
I hurry outside.
Last season’s leaves crunch
beneath bare feet.
I find my rock in moon’s brightness,
sit, pen in hand, listening

Reno Weather Report

Reno Weather Report
a Haibun
Franks Tassone’s Haikai Challenge
dVerse Monday Haibun

Living in the Truckee Meadows, as I do, almost any kind of weather is not unexpected at any time of the year. In winter and spring, Reno suffers from winds howling through the passes of the mountains that led the Donner party to the inexplicable. Frost wipes out tree blossoms in full bloom. Fences succumb to gusts, while trees scratch the sides of our house in outrage. But once spring settles in, with summer close behind, there is no other place to be. Moderate temperatures, high desert’s low humidity, and yes, a cooling breeze in the evening hours.

gusty winds
move through early spring meadows
offer clarity

Written for Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge (Haru Ichiban–First Gust) and linked to my challenge at dVerse Haibun Monday (No Ko Me–tree buds, pending)

If you have never visited Frank’s website, I encourage you to check it out. He offers a wealth of information and stunning poetry in Japanese forms.

Adagio–dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: David Slotto, Cedar Wax Wing in Our Ornamental Pear Tree

Adagio
No Ko Me—Tree Buds
A Haibun

Outside my office window, on the second floor of our home, an ornamental pear tree shares the seasons with me. In summer, her leaves are full and green, offering their shade in the southwest, yet still allowing a view of the setting sun as he hops over the Sierra Nevada. A robin perches in her fluffy nest.

Autumn paints my landscape in glorious tones of gold and orange and crimson…a final shout-out before the now-brown leaves let go, returning to nourish the earth, revealing the tiny, inedible fruit that appears to be a berry. An influx of migrating cedar wax wings stop by to eat of her offerings, along with an occasional chickadee.

But it is in spring that promises pop out on all the gnarly little branches and as I wait for them to open, the return of wrens and finches fill the room with poetic song. This is the first movement of another year’s symphonic beauty.

adagio—buds
brace themselves, appear anew
soon, a crescendo

Today, I’m hosting the Monday Haibun at dVerse. The prompt Kigo is No Ko Me–Tree Buds. To learn more and to join in HERE is the link.