Still Autumn

Caption: adwriter, via Flickr
Labeled for non-commercial reuse

Still Autumn

The yard is silent now.
Ebbing sounds of crickets
faded into nothingness.
An occasional blue jay scolds
but this morning, hides.
Howling winds ceased.
Leaves lie hushed in mounds,
huddle in the cold. Walk
among them, kick, crunch
just to hear nature’s breath again.

Today, our dVerse Quadrille Hostess, De, asks us to use the word KICK, in our 44 word poem. Having raked leaves all morning, I couldn’t escape this theme. I will be back to read after finishing in the back yard. Please join in. The link is open all week.

Driving Toward Town at 7:30 AM on Sunday Morning–dVerse Haibun Monday

Driving Toward Town at 7:30 AM on Sunday Morning
a Haibun

I ease through my neighborhood—streets soaked after a night of rain, awash in a blur of watercolor pastels. Turning east onto a main thoroughfare, the streets are deserted and sunshine backlights black clouds with bursts of silver. Trees bow beneath the weight of rains but shed tears, not the glory of their autumn wardrobe.

Further on, I turn onto West Fourth Street where trailers, weekly motels and liter replace beauty. The photographer has switched from color to a monochromatic vista of black, white and varying shades of gray. Here on the outskirts of Reno, images of drugs deals and prostitution are easy to imagine. I see a black jacket, soaked with rain, hanging over the guard rail that protects me from the gully and train tracks below. I consider pulling over, half-expecting to see its owner splayed in the ravine below. Fear restrains me.

autumn rains can’t cleanse
remnants of despair, poverty
song birds disappear
where trees can no longer thrive
where hope is bathed in darkness

This is a true story that happened yesterday morning. Bjorn invites us to write a contemporary haibun, focused on a cityscape, for dVerse Haibun Monday. Today we are given the option of tweaking the haiku portion of the poem. The pub opens soon, at 3:00 PM EDT. I hope you will join us.

This old photo is the actual portion of West Fourth Street I was driving. It used to be the main thoroughfare between Sacramento and Reno, through the Sierra Nevada, over Donner Pass. I was driving the opposite direction of the car in the photo, toward the city. You can see the ravine, the train tracks. On the opposite side of the street, it is as described in the haibun.

4th

of a gray september day

Photo: V. Slotto

Photo: V. Slotto

of a gray september day

this early morning
(pewter-skied day),
i long for shadow-slices
undulating among rocky crags,
swooping into tree trunk crevices,
unraveling ribbons
of golden sunshine–
light tickled by grass threads.

yesterday, they clung sensually
to a solitary rose,
her beauty now swept
beneath a leaden shroud.

Photo: V. Slotto

Photo: V. Slotto

My favorite prompt, the Quadrille, a 44-word poem (exactly, exclusive of the title)! This week De is looking for the word SHADOW in the poem itself. Stop by dVersePoets Pub with your Quadrille and sip delight by reading the submissions of other poets, sharing comments, too. The prompt is open all week.

 

poetry lurks outside my window–dVerse Open Link Night

12-9-14-006

poetry lurks outside my window

i
chickadees surprise
tree branches alive with dance
then only stillness

ii
outside my window
leaves don foliage for death
so many unknowns

iii
leaves—gold crimson bright
each one a work of beauty
too many ignored

iv
cupped, catching the rain
curled leaf-maws hold pure water
life-source for our thirst

v
what seems like dying
leaves fallen to earth in heaps
promises rising

vi
bare branches reach out
offer their fruit to wax wings
satin loveliness

Photo: David Slotto

Photo: David Slotto Cedar Wax Wing

This is the day we get to play with poetry, any form, any topic, for dVerse Open Link Night, and I hope to see you there.

Autumn has crept in. This morning 37 degrees and windy and I had to cut short my walk, letting my North Dakota-born husband finish the route with the dogs. By the end of the week, it’s supposed to be up in the 80’s again. That’s how it is in Northern Nevada. 

 

(De)Composition–Haibun Monday

Oh, please visit dVerse for today’s exquisite Haibun prompt, offered by Toni (Kanzen Sakura). This will be your last chance to enjoy her hosting for a while as life invites her to take a break. Life does not let us escape CHANGE, does it! 

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Photo: Victoria Slotto

(De)composition

At night the temperatures fall into the upper 30’s or lower 40’s. Here and there I spot a tree that’s gilded gold or swathed in vermillion glory. In my mirror, however, autumn cedes way to early winter. Youthful energy wanes. Skin bears etchings, scars that remind of the battles of life, survived. But spirit-youth prevails, fills the heart with joy, a heart that soars at the sight of her loved ones, rejoices in the presence of friends, tastes the Divine. As winter slowly invades, it brings change. Life, like the bare branches of trees, becomes simple. Above ground, much of the goings-on, the life-surges, may not be at all apparent to others. But growth flourishes, deep within. Wabi-sabi.

branches appear dead
root tendrils stretch out, nourish
into fertile soil

Dance Joy–OLN dVerse Poets

Dance Joy–a Quadrille

It’s winter now.
Butterflies are gone,
sunshine
streaks through gray.

You celebrate, dance joy.

A monochromatic palette
paints my world.
Leaves moulder
nourish damp soil,
prepare for new growth.

I dance
my own autumn
until the day
I, too, may encounter butterflies
in spring.

Image: torange labeled for non commercial use.

Image: torange
labeled for non commercial use.

I missed the recent prompt to write a quadrille–a poem of exactly 44 words, using the word dance with an object. So, I took an old poem I had saved in my “Edit or Trash” file and did a complete overhaul on it. I wrote this in about 2002 for a friend of mine who had died at a very young age, Karen Casey, age 55. Hope I make it in time!

the day is nigh

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Photo: Victoria Slotto

the end is nigh

nearby i hear a single cricket
echoes of desperation in his call
winter skulks into his day
so slowly.

leaves drop like words of sages
settle gently in dewy grass
molder, nourish the earth, the soul,
profoundly.

keep up your call, my little friend
remind us that the day comes soon
when chill will hold us in its arms
so silently.

Please join us at dVerse Open Link Night where you are welcome to share a poem on any theme, in any form, and read the work of your fellow poets, too.