I’m not quite sure of the difference between a cleave poem and a contrapuntal poem, but this is one or the other. It’s for Jilly’s Days of Unreason, Day 1 based on this quote from Jim Harrison.
“Spring day, too loud for talk
when bones tire of their flesh”
Spring day, almost summer when the mockingbird sang
when the air was heavy warning of threats—or promise
too tired to sigh seeking an answer
in fragrant breezes in curtained windows
but letting go finally as the rain fell
whispering, then shouting beating a tattoo
calling children to skip and jump into rainbow puddles
She dreams of springtime
sunshine kissing seeds and buds,
a season of hope
ensorcells her once again
to drift with cherry blossoms
John William Waterhouse, “Windswept,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
This is for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday—using synonyms of charm and time.
Show me the beauty
beneath mist a thousand pictures,
in shadow whispers
time’s music urges, please
was it so
Claude Monet, “Waterloo Bridge, Effect of Fog,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The Oracle was being coy today. It took me a few attempts to coax anything from her, and then apparently she looked outside my window to see the misty day.