Quiet now: let winds bring the scent of flowering trees to where you are
#smallpoems #SundayHaiku response #clmooc
A place to gather words before they get lost.
Quiet now: let winds bring the scent of flowering trees to where you are
#smallpoems #SundayHaiku response #clmooc
There .. Right there ... Right there where brook tumbles into bridge and disappears
She says, to me:
Three bears (a mother, two cubs, exploring fearlessly) Two ravens (she's sure, spying them in reaches of the tree) One fox (sunning itself near a hole where others might be)
and that had me remembering, from the past how we, too, saw the moose (hiding in the dingle and then darting free) and the Fischer cat (low, slinky madness of a different degree)
The neighborhood's wild just seems to be getting ever wilder
It's always fine to be reminded of the world, unseen; that we don't own the place
like the morning walk beginning with spider's web, sticky and empty, draped across the face
One lone bird, above the din; its song, warbled, draws me in
I'm waiting for the hummingbird, not yet come
I'm listening for the music of its distinctive thrum
A pause in the new day, only now, barely begun
How tempting it is to pluck the stem and blow the seeds into the wind but I prefer to gather in and observe the way the wild dandelion, remains, at rest
Never accept what they tell you she told me or maybe she didn't tell me but only showed me the way forward towards resistance, a mother's message to a son still resonating decades after she told me or didn't
What I saw, only in words
a single water droplet dancing off the edge of the maple leaf
a young curious fox watching by the rocks of the pine wood
a soft folding flower shivering in its blanket of pink petals
I wish I could turn and wander from these moments, to remember forever how it was before
with school hallways bustling with chatty energy, jostling bodies walking, the slamming of the metallic locker doors
the quiet of our writing, mid-way musings of pencil scratches on paper, digging into words, emerging towards something more
of recess, and lunchtime, of navigating friendship, of bus loop energy, of greetings, farewells, silent reading on the floor
I wish I could turn and wander from this moment, a return to the before