Photo: pixnio. Labeled for non-commercial reuse.
The bipolar weather does her spring dance. Early this week she offered temperatures in the high 80’s. Today, I glance outside my office window and watch drops of rain fall uncertainly on the fully developed leaves of the ornamental pear tree. Temperatures in the 40’s early morning.
This tree brings so much joy. She offers niches perfect for robin nests and in the autumn extends her arms, heavy with small, hard pears, pears more like berries than the fruit we know. Flocks of cedar waxwings and the occasional chickadee stop by to be nourished on their journeys south.
So welcome sweet spring rain. Bring life to this high desert.
spring rain droplets hang
from dancing leaves (like old breasts)
carmine hooded finch sings
Linked to Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge #33 where the Kigo is Spring Rain, harusame.
As years passed, her hair turned fuller’s white and the pains and joys of life etched wrinkles on her face. Eyes still sparkled. In her muddled mind, she knew him still.
rough gnarly branches,
spring blossoms flourished on twigs
he stayed at her side.
Wikipedia Commons–Labeled for non-commercial reuse.
A Haibun/Quadrille inspired by a number of former patients, linked to dVerse Quadrille Monday, where the word to use is “Muddle.” A Haibun is a short piece of prose followed by a seasonal haiku. A Quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words that uses a specific word offered by the prompter. Please join in at dVerse Monday Quadrille.
Photo: Victoria Slotto
I gather feathers—memories
of color, flight, texture and joy,
and flowers pressed within
the pages of a heavy tome.
Close to my breast—the loves
of countless years. Thus,
within these twisting rivers, blue,
upon my gnarly hands,
I gather hope.
A quadrille is a poem of exactly 44 words, excluding the title. This week Lillian at dVerse asks us to use the word GATHER in our offering. You are invited to join in, read and share a poem at dVerse Haibun Monday
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.
Labeled for non-commercial reuse
Words force entry,
molest every conscious thought—
then, surrender, I must,
or endure unrelenting torture.
(Flames rage, out-
rage across our valley,
of pine, cheat grass–
verdant mountain ranges
where wild life
Words hound me
Posted for dVerse Quadrille where we are to write a poem of exactly 44 words that must include the word FIRE. Please join us.
Photo: David Slotto, Cedar Wax Wing in Our Ornamental Pear Tree
No Ko Me—Tree Buds
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.
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.
Photo: US Marine Corps
In my dream,
spot-fires bleed across the foothills,
crest on the summit,
swoop into our valley,
I sensed a restless-
ness last night
you told me
“It’s the weather,
the threatening storm.”
In the morning,
when I awaken,
you are gone.
Today I’m hosting the Quadrille at dVerse Poets and the word I’m looking for is burn. I took an old poem that was quite short, changed it up a bit, and this is what came out of it. This is fictional.