Leaves in the Wind ~ haibun

 

Leaves in the Wind

Leaves whisper among themselves, giving voice to the breeze that caresses them. They may speak of birth and the vitality they hold for just one season. Perhaps they speak of the fall dance that awaits them, when they dress in festive colors that shout to the world their exuberance even in their decline. They may move in unison, turn this way and that, shifting shades of green early on or shimmering in the subtle translucence of their late-in-life display, but once they lose their grasp it is the wind that determines their direction.

fallen leaves
rustle in the wind
chipmunks nest

This haibun is another take on the prompt at dVerse ~ Poets Pub,
Haibun Monday: aki no koe (Autumn’s Voice).
I’m sharing it with OpenLinkNight #327 at dVerse.

My first response is here.

Cloud of Fallen Leaves ~ haibun

Cloud of Fallen Leaves

Four hours of raking leaves into piles and another six hours of raking from the piles onto a tarp to be dragged to my compost pile in the corner of my yard means two days of yardwork, every year. Last year, I decided this old body needed some sort of relief, so I bought a gas-powered leaf blower. At twenty pounds, the backpack is not uncomfortable, and the leaves are blown into piles within ninety minutes. It may be a timesaver, but it still takes two days to move those leaves. I’ll be happy when they can finally be teleported.

cloud of fallen leaves
moves at high velocity
chipmunks on the run

This is my response to Haibun Monday: aki no koe (Autumn’s Voice),
the prompt from Linda Lee Lyburg at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

The top image is my leaf pile, which fills to the top every year

This is just one quarter of my leaves
(And yes, chipmunks scattered from one pile as I started to rake it onto a tarp)

If Only

If Only

No, I will not grieve
for loved ones lost.
Sorrow that follows
their passing will bow
to celebration for life
and moments shared.
So I tell myself, yet
grief refuses to yield,
despite the celebration.

This my response to No! Vember, the prompt form Sarah at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

Avian Buffet ~ haiku sequence ~ quadrille

Avian Buffet

fresh bounty
for tufted titmouse
squirrels watch

chickadee
pecks sunflower seed
on white branch

cardinal
in a flash of red
on the wing

hungry birds
where no snow gathers
in snowfall

 

This haiku sequence using a 3-5-3 form is my response to Quadrille #164: Winging It, the prompt from De Jackson (whimsigizmo) at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use a form of the word wing in a 44-word poem (excluding title), with no required meter or rhyme.

Murmuring of Ancestors

 

Murmuring of Ancestors

Never skin-deep, the sense of loss,
like salt in a wound, the edge
of a crevice in the heart that holds
a loved one like a well of grief.

And though it wants their return,
the heart’s bruises will fade
as it takes solace, knowing
their weight has been lifted

by the murmuring of ancestors
who greet them in the Elysian Fields,
a welcome sight even in the depths
of your own loss.

This is my response to Wordle #252 at The Sunday Whirl.

grief – field – skin – depths – edge – salt – murmuring
bruises – ancestors – lifted – crevice – wants

Shared with OpenLinkNight LIVE at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.