Grey Changes with the Tides–Haibun

We’re driving to the shore. Charcoal clouds drift and grow, and the day grows darker. All the rough lines and divisions between sea and sky are feather-brushed into one scene of blended grey. We circle the blocks, looking for a place to park, then sit in the car, listening to thunder, and watching the rain fall in silver sheets around us, filling the air with the scent of petrichor. The steady stream of water becomes drops that tip-tap-taper off, and the dark clouds blow away, leaving a blue sky with an egg yolk yellow sun. We walk to the beach. The sea is calmer now, but I hear it call–it is ever changing and never mute.

 

waved-claimed sandcastles

spindrift in endless cycles

blown by summer storms

Ocean City, NJ

 

This is for dVerse, Haibun Monday, where Björn asked us to write about grey.

I’ve also used this week’s words from Secret Keeper:  Calm/rough/storm /ease /mute

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Remember

Say their names slowly–

remember each life lost, now

tolled in hopes and prayers

by those who have forgotten

love, embracing greed instead

 

This is a tanka for dVerse. Frank asked us for brevity.

She Dreamt of Flowers

She dreamt of flowers in her head

instead of winter’s gloomy tune

she heard brightness, gently tread

on blossoms silver, underneath the moon,

of a bird in hand, to him, she crooned

(humming sweetly).

 

She started when the sun arose–

happiest with a starry sky

when she could then repose

after eating—feeling time fleeting–

every second, she felt her heart beating–

(questioning what was seen)

if this was life, or a dream?

 

This is for dVerse. Lillian has asked us to use one of Catrin Weiz-Stein’s images.

catrin-welz-stein-german-surrealist-graphic-designer-tuttart-24.jpg

Image by artist Catrin Welz-Stein

Murmurs: Quadrille

Murmur me, the stars and moon,

glissando whispers, humming croons–

purring from a kitten’s throat,

murmurs, old men’s anecdotes–

murmuration, birds in flight,

sighted in the morning light,

murmur me, an old oak tree

murmur me, what lovers sing–

murmuring life in everything.

 

This is for Quadrille Monday at dVerse. De Jackson has asked us to use the word murmur.

Yesterday morning while I was drinking coffee and writing my Monday post, I suddenly heard so many birds. They just kept coming and swooping around. I thought murmuration. These photos are not very good, since I took them quickly with my phone through the kitchen door, but it was magical.

 

 

 

Writing on a Page: Haibun

This is a Haibun for dVerse. Kim asked us to write about handwriting.

 

In the time before laptops, I sit in archives making notes in pencil on index cards—sometimes printing neatly, sometimes writing in a scrawl, which I will later regret when I can’t read an important word or date. In the old Philadelphia City Archives, I unwrap the brown paper from books tossed haphazardly on the table in front of me. In other archives, documents are treated with more care, even if we do occasionally pass some of the more ribald ones around. I read the flowing copperplate of professional clerks, as well as less legible handwriting. I learn to decipher superscripts and abbreviations no longer used. I read the words, ponder—ideas flow, and I write.

 

geese rise heading north

chaos becomes organized

writing on a page

 

 

My published work on history, gender, and sexuality can be found here.