Monday, June 26, 2017

Summer -- dVerse Haibun Monday

Summer is a fleeting privilege.  Each one the same, each different.  This is the 75 summer of my life.
I grew up on the Texas coast, as a child, and into adulthood, summers were filled with beach parties, wiener roasts, roasted marshmallows, and watermelon.  Charging into the waves, to be knocked down, get up and charge again.  The way the sand felt under foot, as the waves returned to the sea.  The cry of the seagulls as they dived for food.  Collecting shells on the shore.  Any day was a good day for a picnic.

Now, I live in the high mountain desert of New Mexico, ancient old, land of enchantment.  Summers are mostly cool, and the nights cooler.  Seagulls are replaced by the rowdy magpies, who scream and quarrel while sitting on fence posts or dive bomb into the sagebrush while playing tag.  There are no beaches to roam, no shells to collect.  Instead, we collect the biggest blue skies and the most incredible sunsets, that could break your heart.  I am in love with the land, and after all, when a summer has come and gone, it will not return again in just the same way, next summer will be different.

My view stretches all the way to the horizon
Or is stopped by the mountains

Each day torn from the big book of magic   

Sunday, June 25, 2017

A SLY CAPTAIN --The Sunday Whirl #305 --Sunday's Whirligig #117 FIRES BURN HOT/ -- Poets United/Poets Pantry

The Sunday Whirl  #305

            A SLY CAPTAIN

in a blink of the eye     the known world can change            up-rooted

as if drunk                   spin                                unsure of my footing

i stumble                      all can be snatched away           left in the dust

tattered                         the mountain can sheer off             a landslide

it can happen in a single instant            the curve ball               thrown

the storm comes up      i lash myself to the mast        it is a sly captain 
                                                                                               that can

 weather all storms       return unharmed          tuck the children in
                                                                 safely at the end of the day

June 25, 2017


Sunday Whirligig #117 




            FIRES BURN HOT


lost in the middle         not young                     not elderly


middle child                 wednesday’s child        mid-week                                


telling nursery stories                waiting             the end is in sight                    


school is out                 first day of summer      free to dance                           


free to be                     rhythms and rhymes   slower now


you reminded me         yellow bikini                beach parties               


the weather hot energy hiding in shadows         of dark cool blue


purples too                   lunch                           cucumber sandwiches


iced-tea                                    mom’s favorite lemon pie         yellow goo


the world quiet             mountains lay sleepy    no need to hurry                     


the snow has melted                 no reason for upset      it happens every summer         


when the sun burns bright        smoke in the valley      fires burn hot




June 23, 2017