Desert Mosaic–dVerse Haibun Monday

Desert Mosaic

Photo: Victoria Slotto

A sharp breeze from the southwest snaps flags—reminders of Presidents’ Day and the aftermath of recent rain showers. White clouds pool in mountain crevices—fluffy bowls of whipped cream or meringue. Sunshine breaks through, coaxing the dogs and I to cross the street in an attempt to offset desert chill. Black crows that circle overhead caw furiously. Sparky and Zoe bark back as though to protect me but I press onward, ignoring the chaos, and I consider how nature gives freely of her beauty.

rainy winter days
rare but pregnant with promise
carpets of color

In the years when we are blessed with abundant rain, the desert floor blooms forth, splashing color everywhere.

Written for and posted to dVerse Haibun Monday where Kanzen Sakura asks us to consider how the best things in life are free.

 

Waiting at the Side of the Pond–dVerse Haibun

Photo: donjd2 on Flickr
Labeled for noncommercial reuse

Waiting at the Side of the Pond

I watch as he waits for death–his white body crouched over, shoulders hunched, still as the death he is about to impose. Of a sudden, he springs from his crouch, snatches his prey and soars on high, a flash of silver squirming in his beak.

Not long ago, I also watched for death—not the kind I would inflict, but one that would afflict me. And so did a friend across the pond, the big one. And, now, one across the continent. Its coming is inevitable, whether anticipated with hope or dread. It is inevitable.

early morning watch
egret fleeing winter climes
feeds on silver hope

Today is Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets and the theme is waiting. Hope to see you there.

Summer Fading, 1948

 

 

 

Summer Fading, 1948

Photo: Randy Robertson
Labeled for non-commercial reuse

The leaves of my pepper tree tickle me as the gnarly bark scrapes the back of my legs. I take a leave and crush it, inhaling the pungent fragrance evokes a sense comfort in me. Red berries, peppercorns, hang in clusters. What better place for a 5 year old to consider all those important things that occupy her life.

Moments later, Mama beckons to me from the back door. I scurry down the tree with conflicting feelings of regret and anticipation and slam the screen door behind me. “Take your sweater, Vicki, it will be cool when you come home.” I grab it off the dining room chair and sprint down the hill, across the dirt road to Stewie’s house where, on his 12” black and white TV, Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent has just joined his buddies.

setting summer sun
slips gently behind our hill
peace-filled memory

Happy to have Lady Nyo hosting this week for dVerse Haibun. Please join us. 

And to All a Blessed Night

Photo: Wikipedia
Labeled for non-commercial reuse

And to All a Blessed Night

“You’re not going to sleep in her room, are you?” Already my nieces had questioned my plan to spend the night alone in Mom’s house, just hours after her death. “Of course; why not?”

Night three, around four AM, a bright light awakens me from a sound sleep. I drag myself out of bed and creep to the doorway, peer to the right and left. The only lights were those I’d left on to give the impression that caregivers were still here, as they had been for several years.

I shrug, return to bed. An emergency radio/flashlight, previously unnoticed on the armoir, greets me with its intense rays, emanating a sense of peaceful energy and perhaps a bit of Mom’s most predictable sense of humor.

winter stars winking
illumine the new moon sky
most loving presence

Today at dVerse, Toni invites us to share a non-fiction account, in Haibun form, of a remembered good night, keeping in mind that phrase from Moore’s fun Christmas poem–and to all, a good night! True story, this.

 

November, Interrupted: dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: V. Slotto

November, Interrupted

Outside, I see the barren pewter skies of late November, consider how I was taught as a child that this is the time of year in which we are to reflect upon death. Nature seems to cry “emptiness,” though I know that, in reality, life surges beneath the surface of what appears to be.

Wind howls, inviting our outdoor chimes to sound a song of hope when, in a flash, color fills our naked fruit trees as a slew of winter birds fill their branches. Bright yellow and red accents of the cedar wax wings, the stunning burnt sienna of robins and breath-taking tones of blue of Stellar Jays. Even tiny monochromatic chickadees bestow joy as they nestle together in the maple, where scattered orange leaves cling stubbornly.

ornamental pear
stretches out her fruitful arms
fertile emptiness

Written and linked for dVerse, where today Kanzen Sakura invites us to post a haibun on any subject as long as it is a non-fictional account of something that happened to us, concluding with a traditional haiku. This happened just this morning! Please join us.

Chester and Vi–Haibun Monday, Romance

Today, for dVerse Haibun Monday, Toni (Kansen Sakura) asks us to write of romance. The prose aspect of a Haibun is a non-fiction account. This event occurred when I was nursing in Long Term Care, Toledo, Ohio in the mid-70’s.

Image: boldsky.com

Chester and Vi
a Haibun

It’s early morning and the scene repeats itself. After bathing his wife, Vi, Chester trods down the neon-lit hallway to the unit’s kitchenette to blend an assortment of foods for her breakfast. He knows her likes and dislikes and takes care to please her. Though it’s been years since she has spoken, years since she has even shown signs of recognition, he speaks to her, telling her news of the day, of other patients and of his love for her. Chester once told me that he digs into his memories of those times before a massive stroke rendered Vi helpless, excavates moments when the love they shared was everything to him, as it remains. When he’s certain she is comfortable, he comes and finds me, helps me with other bed-bound patients, seeming to offer them the same care and gentleness he has given his beloved. Old, but healthy, Chester is my sagacious teacher. Without speaking a word, he gives me a glimpse into the true meaning of romance. The day goes on in its endless routine; his loving attention endures.

mourning dove still waits
scattered feathers mar spring joy
hawk feeds her young ones

Just to add a bit of humor, Vi did speak once when Chester was feeding her and I stood by, ready to suction her in case she choked, as she often did. He asked her how her dinner tasted. She responded, “Like shit!” True story.

Dedicated to a friend who is lovingly caring for her husband.

 

Her Majesty–Haibun Monday

Image: Wikipedia
Labeled for Non-Commercial Reuse

Her Majesty
a Haibun

Whoa, it is hot and dry here in the Truckee Meadows. The leaves on our tomato plants get droopy unless David takes care in watering them daily, or more often. But the fruit on the vine blushes, then reddens—kissed by the high desert sunshine. Sagging, dried out day lilies need constant deadheading and even the intrepid evening primrose drops its lovely pink blooms. I’ve missed the brilliant orange flashes of orioles, which have migrated to cooler climes. They came morning and evening to drink of the nectar we provide—bees and even a few wasps have moved in as their replacement.

Evening breeze offers relief and nighttime temperatures plummet. We sleep with open windows, disturbed only by the wail of passing trains on the other side of the Truckee. Up early to walk the dogs and do garden chores before the heat descends.

Last week I made my way up the winding road to the cool of the lake and made a new friend.

Tahoe waits on high.
Winding roads give way to blue.
She hides her secrets.

(Note: the average water temperature of Lake Tahoe about 68 degrees F at the surface, 39 degrees deeper. Too often people will be careless, not wear life jackets and quickly die of hypothermia. This happened last month when a UNR football player died in a jet ski incident. They searched for days but were unable to find his body.)

Written for Toni’s prompt for Monday Haibun—Heat—at dVerse Poet’s Pub. Please join us.

Yokoburi–dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: David Slotto

Yokoburi–Driving Rain

Drizzle could not deter us, remember? We headed out, the second day of golf at Pinehurst, a privilege you had won by completing a survey, something we could never have hoped for on our own. Dew sparkled on the grass and gray squirrels scampered across the fairway. Already exhausted from playing the U.S. Open course the day before, we forged ahead, not worrying too much about our game, rather soaking in the beauty of the September day. Little-by-little, the rain increased in intensity. By hole #11 the skies open in earnest and you pulled the cart over, beneath the trees, waiting for a break in the driving rain that never came. Your last drive had landed in the fairway—a cannon ball. Finally, accepting the whims of weather, I retrieved your ball and, skirting puddles, we splashed our way back to the clubhouse.

beneath tree branches
strong scent of pine refreshes
bathed in loveliness

Kanzen Sakura, Toni, offers us an exquisite prompt for Haibun Monday–sharing the 50 Japanese words for rain. Please visit us at dVerse, learn more about the prompt, and enjoy reading and writing about rain.

My Life Revolves around Two Furry Critters–dVerse Haibun Monday (2)

My Life Revolves around Two Furry Critters

I hear a whimper coming from the crate, underneath the brocaded cover I made to keep the dogs from awakening too early. They know I’m up and about. After opening blinds, I dish up a concave half cup of kibbles for each, mix in a teaspoon of baked sweet potato and add fresh water to their dish. I lift the front flap of their abode, and slide open the door and release two energetic bundles of fur. They make their way around the corner on two right legs, making me think of the time I got to drive a lap around the Indianapolis Race Track, though at a speed slower than the pros. The dogs dive bomb into their dishes while I fasten their collars around their necks—not a moment’s interruption until the crunch, crunch, crunch stops and they come to me for a good morning lick. I open the door to the deck and they fly out to do their duty as I watch, sipping hot coffee.

morning cool seeps in
swallow guards her nesting brood
spring awaits full sun

I couldn’t resist a second Haibun for Toni’s prompt at dVerse Haibun Monday. Please join us and read her wonderful intro. This one is not fiction.

The Zen of Folding Laundry–dVerse Haibun Monday

Today at dVerse Poet’s Pub we are writing Haibun to the theme of an ordinary day–one paragraph and a Haiku that includes reference to nature and a season. I chose to write a little flash fiction in the prose part of this, though I do find this task quite Zen-like. And I wish I did have a folding table.

The Zen of Folding Laundry
A Haibun (Fiction)

When the dryer buzzed, Maria set about the task of folding laundry. Not that long ago it was a task she despised—resenting that fact that her man changed clothes way too often and never raised a finger to help her, preferring to criticize when things weren’t just so. That was before her teacher taught her to meditate. Today, she tunes in to the robin song outside her open window. Breathes deeply of the fragrant cool breeze and the floral scent of the dryer sheets. Her laundry table is now covered with a checkered fabric and she uses the squares to guide the folds, noting with satisfaction the beauty of the tee shirts in a variety of colors piled high to her left. All is well. Tony hardly ever beats her anymore.

sweet pea scents waft in
refresh the room and soul-soothe
peace in this moment