A haibun inspired by Frank’s challenge about crickets, and the last FDDA, about plans for September. I will miss FDDA, but I’m always grateful for FOWC. I’ve also been trying to respond to other prompts, but this is the best one that I wrote today.
Tomorrow begins September. There are no particular plans, but I hope for more time with friends and being able to actually enter the church again. There were no plans for August, either, other than my friends’ live-streamed wedding on the 1st, but the month was better than expected. I’ll take September one day at a time. Too much thinking and I’ll start sinking in anxieties. As always, I’ll be hunting for the silver lining.
in silence a sound:
August chirping a goodbye —
crickets out of sight
For today’s Weekly Scribblings, we are considering our foundations. I am also sharing this with FOWC: Nothing. Special thanks to Sarah for her beautiful and life-filled poem Walking at the Edge. Although the topic is much different, I read her poem earlier today and was inspired by the life in her poem, and I felt like her poem contained a “ferocious optimism,” hence the title and inspiration for this poem.
Every breath means she
Is not drowned underneath
New, bad news arriving daily.
Every step means she
Has not allowed depression
To render her inert, bedridden.
Every trembling of the Earth she
Wonders if this is the “Big One;”
Somehow there’s still a foundation.
Every morning means she
Breathes, steps, and wonders anew
That nothing has beaten her too blue.
For Quadrille Monday this week, Victoria asks us, “How does your garden grow?” I’m a day late with this, but here is mine. I might add pictures later.
Everything that she touches dies.
So the garden in front of these eyes
Was planted by her brother’s loving hands.
Her heart such beauty understands,
In awe of God and human skill
Under the sun, her spirits rise.
Gratitude and peace her worries still.
This is for FOWC: Catch and inspired by my time outside this afternoon.
Black butterfly with yellow on its wings’ edge
Keeps flying in front of me; I can’t
Grasp it but it keeps returning, as if
Attempting to catch my attention, gesturing
Towards something which still escapes me.
This is a Tableau poem for the Saturday Mix “lucky dip.” Sitting outside in my family’s back yard, I wrote this. I’m not sure about the final line; the poem got kind of dark, but anyway, I’ll stop rambling 🙂 and let you read it.
In the breeze, swaying
And going between
The floral faces
Withered, shriveled here.
This is for DVerse Poetics, where Peter asks us to write about the view out of our window. I’m posting late because I wanted to get a really good photo, but by this morning, I was willing to settle for this.
With the blinds open,
Yet hidden behind panes
Of glass and a screen,
I look out upon our lawn,
A pathway, trees and greenery:
The sky is blank today.
I see my neighbors’ houses
But no neighbors about.
Later I might see
Some people walking dogs,
The sun might smile.
It’s likely that I will
Stay inside, continuing
To observe the scene, writing.
Come — you have nothing
To be afraid of.
Come — follow me
All the way across the sky
I am the sunrise.
I am what makes morning
Bright and beautiful.
Awake — next to my breaking
Rays of nascent dawn.
Awake — are you following
My light’s arc, so lovingly drawn?