Of Meadows

   

















tha

Variations  on the Rubaiyat was Thursday's prompt over @ dversepoets
 

Of Meadows

Reaching  the  flat upper grassy  hillside,
tiny  voices speak  their stories and minds....
brightest  pink,  yellow,  blue,  white wildflowers,
language  for  waywards,  sweet  refuge oblige.

Ebbing tides

At dversepoets today we are writing about family body traits, focusing on a couple of compound adjectives.


Ebbing Tides

The ebbing of the tide and
silken, dark, wet sand
left no trace of him,
or his footprints.
He did not know back then
it wasn't the end
of the line.

They walk just like him,
short legged, yet of fettle form,
sharing his casual gait.
They mimic him,
hand in one pocket,
letting the other
postulate.

Like he did,
his son wears
astute specs on his nose.
There is a tilt, blink,
a nod, salty eyebrows
squint in the sun like his,
a striking familiar pose.

Grandsons have similar
jawlines, smiles, hands
and sophic eyes.             
In certain blue angles
of light, his great-grandson
resembles him,
though taller in size.

I wonder if my father knows
his granddaughters,
a new great-granddaughter,
have such fair bonny faces.
Surely he guides them with
a full, happy heart
on journeys to faraway places.

                 

Seeds of Spring

dversepoets
Monday Haibun

Victoria has kindly asked us to write a Chijitsu or kego, a Japanese poetic form  which refers to the transitional time of dawn or dusk, spring  and fall, a lingering. It is a paragraph or so, finalized with haiku.


Seeds of Spring

Summer left me..my heart slumped to the ground. Pummeling rain has been my companion since, keeping my heart safe with books and other such indoor friends. Now, lilac and cherry blossoms take their turn to fall.  I'm keenly mindful of roses under terra firma, as they harness their reserve to flourish again, Spring is late.  I wish it would stay all year - for it's resplendent parade of color, blended scents, baby insects fleeing on their journeys, however short.
Does and their fawns arrive to feed on grass. Birds return, eyeing me warily, yet with familiarity. They still keep their distance, except for the chicadees.
By their sharper chirps or alighting on my sleeve for a split second, they remind me their seed is almost gone...my heart again ascends.

Spring rallies my heart
All life's possibilities
tremble with the earth