A Bit of Healing

IMG_4728

 

I’ve been feeling stressed for months—deadlines, caring for my mom, trying to fit everything in, waiting for the next disaster. I take a morning walk in the riverside park before the predicted downpour arrives. There I find a bit of magic, a bit of healing. Life goes on.

 

russet-gold shower

leaves fall on a silent world—

time pauses, deer leaps

 

IMG_4740

 

I’m linking this Haibun to dVerse’s Open Link Night. Lillian asked for some treats. Seeing deer is a treat for me (as long as they’re not in the road).

 

Listen

512px-SN1994D--Super Nova

Hubble Space Telescope-Image of Supernova 1994D (SN1994D) in galaxy NGC 4526 (SN 1994D is the bright spot on the lower left). NASA/ESA, The Hubble Key Project Team and The High-Z Supernova Search Team

 

Twinkle, bang—a star explodes, sending its dust into space. We’re made of that dust, ephemeral and eternal. Everything connected, nothing ever truly extinct. Listen—

stars shimmer and sing

treble and bass symphony,

bestowing beauty

in bright notes of stellar light

tumbling into space

 

At dVerse, Linda has asked us to use the word “extinction” (or some form of the word) in a quadrille, a poem of 44 words. The extra challenge is not to discuss climate change.

This is a haibun tanka quadrille. Maybe a haibun tanka is not a thing, but oh well. I’ve also used synonyms for fall and give for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. I was joking with someone about stars “singing,” but here’s an article about the sounds they make.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lesson

512px-Gowy-icaro-prado

 

I look at the painting. Is it a lesson about hubris? Or that children must make their own mistakes? All I see is father and son, horror and grief.

 

and now your feathers

nicked and torn, you soared too close

bewitched by the sun

 

A haibun quadrille (a poem of 44 words) for dVerse, where De has asked us to use the word “nick.” And also, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, using synonyms for enchant and fly.

Message in a Bottle

message-in-a-bottle-1694868_1280

I read the news—an Alaska man finds a bottle with a fifty-year-old message inside. The Russian sailor’s note conveys friendly greetings. They drift through Cold War seas, through glasnost and perestroika to shores not yet submerged by the rising seawater of melted glaciers. The man shows the message to his sons.

Past meets the future

carried on time’s tumbling waves

ebbing and flowing

lives tide-lifted and lowered

as moon-silvered sea rolls on

 

This is a Haibun tanka (because sometimes you have to break the rules) for Colleen’s tanka Tuesday photo challenge, using the photo above.

Here is the story that was in the news.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her Voice

 

IMG_3675

 

My mother’s voice is soft now. Her words slur and drift off in a breeze. But today she laughs, and the sparrows twitter and chirp, carrying that laugh up to the sky.

Dawn rises giggling

rose-tipped clouds streak summer sky—

shadows dance on ground

 

For dVerse, where De has asked us to write a quadrille (a poem of 44 words, any style) using the word voice.

 

 

 

 

 

Transitory Structures

Building in a puddle, Philadelphia

A lightning bolt zig zags across the grey and ominous sky. I quickly slide my hand down from the metal pole to clutch the plastic handle of my umbrella. Thunder booms. I walked faster but stop to look down at the sidewalk. There I see an upside-down, ephemeral world; beautiful and transitory, a skyscraper in a puddle.

Ordinary sights

made extraordinary—

in a summer storm

 

A Haibun for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, Poet’s Choice of words.

 

 

Sun on the Bay–Haibun

IMG_8558

 

Cape May—a “girls’ weekend” on a summery-spring day. We delight in the warmth, and later watch the sun fire the bay. Overnight, the weather turns and rages, but we laugh and have brunch.

April nor’easter,

tom-catting deck chairs scatter–

inside, fond hearts glow

 

For dVerse, a haibun quadrille. Grace has asked us to use the word sun.

 

 

Going Forth–Haibun

11722283_1005544602792136_3415753660320789971_o

Today tanks roll through the nation’s capital, and jets fly over a divided country, but I remember another Fourth of July where people came together to witness a union. Outside fireworks boomed and flared, but inside, love lit up the room. No excess displays are needed to whitewash the facts. Here, we share a couple’s happiness. With the stomp of a goblet, we’re reminded of the simple truth that love. . . is love is love is love. . .and that it endures.

 

lovers stand and watch

colors streak across the sky—

shattered glass echoes

through time, a kaleidoscope,

love forms and reforms again

 

Today is my younger daughter and son’s wedding anniversary. A few years ago, we celebrated three weddings within about two years. First our older daughter married her wife, then younger daughter married her husband, and then my sister married her wife. (You can find posts about them, if you’re interested, by searching Love and Marriage.)

This is a Haibun with a tanka instead of the traditional haiku for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday. and Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge, “Independence.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cinnamon and Snow: Haibun

 

Valerius_De_Saedeleer_-_Winter_landscape

It snowed, and the earth was devoid of color. The wind howled and shook the house, knocking to get in. Robins, sparrows, tufted titmice, and cardinals huddled in their nests. Wise squirrels had gathered acorns from the old oak tree, but now they, too, sought shelter. The roads were unplowed, and the schools were closed for days. I baked an endless supply of cookies, bread, cakes, and donuts. My comfort for the storm. The house was scented with cinnamon and love.

 

frosted white-veiled world

sighs drifting from cloud-draped moon–

from home warmth beckons

 

It’s midsummer, so to be contrary I thought I’d write about a blizzard. When my children were young—perhaps in kindergarten and third grade—there was a blizzard that left two feet of snow, and more in the drifts. I know that some of you live in areas that have more snow, but I think it wasn’t only the amount, but the intensity of the storm and the drifting afterwards. It might have been this one. 

 

 

 

 

Picnics at the Lake, NaPoWriMo

So many picnic dinners at the lake. We are all younger and thinner. I wear my hair in braids; my skin is smooth and summer-brown. Summers seem full of warm promises—and gentle breezes carry magic. A butterfly perches on the flowered center of my purple bathing suit. I watch her in delight, though I can’t understand her whispered secrets. Still, I keep them.

 

Rose petals turn brown,

traces of perfume lingers–

ghosts drift from the past

 

Day 30, the last day of NaPoWriMo! We’re asked to write a minimalist poem–so the haiku here. I’m also linking this to Haibun Monday on dVerse, where Gina has asked us to write about picnics.