Dream

Photo: Wikipedia
Labeled for non-commercial reuse.

Dream

Last night I dreamt of
feathers and shape-shifting.
Today a wren perches on a naked branch
outside my window.
By afternoon
the tree is in full bloom.

I miss you.

De Jackson is asking for Postcard Poems, that is, poems of 12 lines or less, at dVerse Poetics. Please join us.

Spring Saunters In–dVerse Monday Haibun

Photo: V. Slotto a path, a block from us, that gives access to the river walk

Photo: V. Slotto
a path, a block from us, that gives access to the river walk

Spring Saunters In
a Haibun

Four days of gentle, much desired rain and today the clouds part, allowing sun and fresh air to decant the earth. Our world is swathed in green—the new leaves unfurling on the ash and maple trees, the grass, growing so quickly you can hear it if you’re quiet enough. Flowers open their buds to drink deeply of rain drops still nestling in folds of colors: pink, purple, yellow—especially yellow.

At last, we set out for a walk, two anxious dogs eager to catch up on the neighborhood smells. We don’t hurry, rather stop to survey our surroundings, chatting about our own plans for the garden. Annuals and veggies, started from seed, wait for planting in the raised bed, soon to be roto-tilled, or the flower garden, already burgeoning with perennials. Along the road, dandelions dot yards with splats of color.

The breeze pushes cotton-ball clouds to the East, though west of us a few dark clouds still hover on the snow-capped Sierra Nevada. At last, water courses through the Truckee River, where last year only a trickle flowed out of Tahoe. We return home to Stellar Jays vying for a place at our feeder.

oriole returns,
flaunts orange against cobalt sky
spring walks in, he soars

Bjorn hosts Haibun Monday today and the theme is Walking. We would love to have you join us. The doors to the Pub open at 1500 EST.

Photo: D. Slotto

Photo: D. Slotto

Sevenling (Paradox)–Prompt Nights and dVerse OLN

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Sevenling (Paradox)

Beneath branches of our rose-bush hides a tiny bud;
finch builds her nest in the dense foliage of the fragrant Jasmine;
mama duck hustles her little ones, taking cover under a low-lying shrub.

Hawk circles above in the cerulean sky, looking for prey;
dandelions pepper the lawn, scatter their seeds in swirling winds;
Bougainvillea bursts into an array of celebratory color.

In the East, snow mocks spring.

Linking this to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights, where we celebrate spring and to dVerse Open Link Night where we celebrate poetry and whatever else moves us. Please join us. You will enjoy both sites, I promise you.

seduction–dVerse OLN

 

Photo: David Kleinert Labeled for Non-Commercial Use

Photo: David Kleinert
Labeled for Non-Commercial Use

seduction

our world, redolent with scent–
citrus, star jasmine
heavy, alluring

buds open
to welcome bees,
to welcome hummingbirds
drinking deeply

a pair of mallards nest
amid her fallen blossoms

wide awake at last,
earth sighs,
whispers a promise to spring
invites her song

across the water, satin wings unfurl

I’m no doubt late for posting this at dVerse OLN, but would like to give a heads-up. Pay a visit to refresh your thirst for poetry.

Awakening Spring–dVerse Meeting the Bar

Today for dVerse Meeting the Bar I’ve asked that we write poems that focus on verbs. To do this I searched my archives for a spring poem–this one written in 2010 and have revised it to clean it up a bit with an emphasis on active verbs. The first poem is the revision.

Awakening Spring

Do you remember clouds
like white dogs bounding
across empty skies?

Or coupling dragonflies,
their wings shaved slivers–
moonstone-shimmering?

Nearby, leaves moldered.
Their smell mingled with
scents of sweat and love.

A chorus of crickets undulated
in an outdoor theater,
unabashed by our nakedness.

Grass scratching, breeze licking
aroused bliss,
foreshadowed tomorrow’s spring .

Photo: zenfolio

Photo: zenfolio

This is the original–not too bad as far as verbs, but a little wordy.

Spring

Do you remember the cloud
that looked like a white dog bounding
across the empty gray sky?

Or the coupling dragonflies,
their wings shaved slivers of
shimmering moonstone or fire opal?

Nearby, something moldered in dank earth.
Its smell mingled with
the scent of our sweat and sex.

A chorus of crickets undulated
in an outdoor theater,
unabashed by our nakedness.

You told me to get on top because
the grass beneath our blanket scratched me.
A breeze licked my body.

Do you think that it was love?
Or maybe because tomorrow would be spring.

I invite you to join us at dVerse since this is my last time hosting…at least in the foreseeable future. I’ve assumed the role of caregiver for a while. And that’s what enduring love means for the long haul.