But why must all the operations in life be performed without an anesthetic?
– Ernest Hemingway, To Have and Have Not (1937)
Haibun
Fruits of Our Labor
A haibun alluding to the solstice for DVerse’s Haibun Monday.
Sweet, ripe strawberries convey the taste of summer. Store-bought may be bigger, but nothing can beat the beauty of garden-grown. The sun from my own back yard reddens the fruits, which have grown from hand-planted seeds, just as this daylight has grown from the seeds of winter nights. Teeth sink gratefully into the fruits of our labor.
This moment stands still
Reaching the peak of ripeness —
Sweet strawberry juice
Driven Crazy
For SoCS: Drive and FOWC: Snap. This became a haibun.
What drives me crazy?
When people use apostrophes to pluralize their words.
Sometimes, my mother sends me pictures of poorly-written signs, and it makes me want to snap!!
though I cannot drive
I can be driven crazy
by punctuation
A Modular Life
Well, in not posting yesterday, I broke my 2-month+ posting streak. It felt weird not to share anything, but I had a full day, and of course I wrote a few things. 🙂 Today, I’m sharing a haibun inspired by FOWC: Modular and DVerse Poetics’s prompt about risk. I looked up the definition of “modular,”and it made me think of furniture from IKEA.
Noticing the Flourishing
May’s full moon is on Wednesday, and it is known as the Flower Moon, as Frank, the host of DVerse Haibun Monday, says.
This month, I have noticed a wealth of new flowers in the garden: varying shapes and shades, hues of pink and yellow, almost whatever one could name. Bees are busy pollinating, and the blueberries, too, are growing and ripening from a gentle light-green. We have already picked a bowlful; soon the fruits will fill baskets. The garden is waiting to give many other fruits and vegetables as treasures.
after heat of day
buzz of all activity
rests under the moon
What Was Now
For DVerse, a haibun about the present moment.
Lungs continue to inflate. Outside, white clouds are Rorschach blots in a sea of sky. The neighbors’ cypress tree is leaning as the wind breathes. Lungs hold their precious breath as birds chip. Lungs let go: Exhale.
sunny afternoon
notice past preconceptions
a breeze — a shiver
This picture was taken when 11 months ago was “now.”
Haibun for the End of March
A haibun for DVerse, alluding to cherry blossoms, also partially inspired by FOWC: Slight, but mostly inspired by my family’s garden.
A warm afternoon at the end of March passes both languidly and much too quickly. The sky is blue, with no clouds blowing in the slight breeze. A monarch butterfly, black-and-orange wings majestic and beautiful flies — almost floats — nearly close enough to kiss the nose of an observer. The bird-feeders, filled for the first time in a long while, attract many other winged creatures, feathered things opening their hungry beaks.
And it is around now, when the cherry blossoms bloom at their peak.
Nature takes her time —
From the outside see Earth spin
Making us dizzy
Loud Voices
This is for two prompts from MLMM: the Sunday Writing Prompt and Tale Weaver: Bookworm.
“Bookworms unite!” The loud cry
Came from a crowd congregated outside
The library, hoping for it to be reopened,
Making their voices heard, missing the
Multitudes of written words.
opening pages
newness held in waiting hands —
now there is quiet
No Moratorium on Writing
The word for today’s FOWC: Moratorium, brought back memories. When I was in fifth grade, I took part in a spelling bee for my school district, and I won fourth place. The word that I misspelled was “moratorium,” which was an unfamiliar word to me and which I spelled with an I rather than an a. I guess you could say that, after I misspelled that word, there was a moratorium on spelling bee competitions for me. 🙂 At least until the next year, which I won.
It’s the second-to-last day of February, so what I’m loving today is…have I said “writing poems” yet? I love writing poems and wrote 9 today (of dubious merit).
Ash Wednesday
For Frank’s current haikai challenge, I wrote a haibun about Ash Wednesday.
The ashes that are used to mark the foreheads of the faithful, as a sign of repentance, grief yet hope, are the ashes from the burnt palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday. Since Palm Sunday was cancelled for the public last Lent, I wonder which branches were burned. They were burned along with the hope of certain earthly pleasures — a reminder that this was never meant to be anyone’s true home.
Symbol-filled ashes:
Journey to destination
Because life is Lent
