Full Moon Comfort ~ haibun

Full Moon Comfort

Since moving to Missouri, I’ve made many trips back to Buffalo to visit my family, probably as many as twenty in the first seven-and-a-half years. Three of those trips were by air, but the rest have been by car. The trip is only nine hundred miles, one-way, a distance easily covered in a day, and I don’t mind the drive. Driving also makes it easier to make a stop near Cleveland to visit my son and his family.

Bonnie still works, but I’m retired, so I have a lot more flexibility when it comes to travel time. It’s always nice to have company on the drive, but I don’t mind driving solo. I can cover the total distance in daylight, except when winter brings darkness in the early morning and evening hours. There have been a few times when I’ve had the moon for a companion.

With travel restrictions due to the pandemic, I haven’t made that trip since December. I’ve missed opportunities to see my granddaughter in Cleveland, who will be two years old in November. I’ve not seen my daughter since before she learned she is expecting her first child in November, and I don’t know when I will be able to hold her daughter. I’d say it’s down to once in a Blue moon, but even those seem more frequent.

thoughts of family
in search of consolation
full moon appears twice

This is my response to Haibun Monday 9/28/20: to the Moon!,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

Image: Harvest Moon, 29 September 2012

hidden, but not ~ gogyohka

hidden, but not
sturgeon in a broad expanse
merely elusive
knowing where to look
the moon always rises

This gogyohka is in response to Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #150: Sturgeon Moon.
The first full moon of August is called the Sturgeon Moon, Grain Moon, Barley Moon or Red Moon.

My attempts to photograph the full moon on Monday evening (11 hours past full moon)
were stymied by clouds.  The moon was as elusive as a sturgeon.

Also shared with Just Sayin’, the Open Link Night prompt from Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

Once in a Sturgeon Moon

Once in a Sturgeon Moon

Back in my scuba diving days, the majority of my dives were river drifts in the Niagara River. The water was a welcome relief on a hot August day, even while wearing a wet suit.

A shore dive would mean parking one vehicle at the exit point, followed by a drive upriver for the start of the dive. Holding a line connected to our dive float and flag, we would descend to the river bottom, from thirteen to thirty-five feet below, depending on the section of the river. Knowing the approximate time of the drift, we would surface and kick towards shore for our exit. Sometimes that could mean a strong, hard kick into shore because the current was faster that day or had pushed us out further than expected.

I started carrying a quarter in my wet suit after one dive that resulted in overshooting our exit point and landing on an island (connected by a bridge). I walked into a bar at a marina, borrowed a quarter to call for a ride (pre-cellphone days), and walked back out to my dive buddy, my wet suit garnering looks and comments from the bar patrons. The woman who gave me the quarter also bought shots to share with me.

We also would dive from a boat on the river, which was much easier. A back-roll off the side of the boat, and we were in the water. Once on the bottom, we would be connected with a ten foot long buddy line. The current was our friend, carrying us downriver as we watched the bottom for lost boat anchors and antique bottles. A tug on the line usually meant the other diver had grabbed on to a rock on the bottom as he pulled an anchor or bottle from under a rock or from the silt. Over the years, I acquired propellers, hundreds of bottles, and dozens of anchors, as well as a few outboard motors that I sold to an outboard engine repair shop. For years, I had a recovered three-hundred pound anchor on my lawn.

Of course, I never caught any fish while diving, but I saw quite a few, from bass to catfish to muskellunge. One fish that stands out in my memory was a complete surprise. As we drifted along the bottom with fairly good visibility, a shadow appeared on my right. I was confused at first, because I thought it was my dive buddy (whose name also happened to be Ken), but the buddy line was on my left, with my buddy firmly attached. And then it came to within five feet of me, staying by my side for thirty seconds. It was a six-foot long sturgeon. Back on the boat, it was all we could talk about.

hot, still days
no relief at night
sturgeon moon

This haibun is my response to Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #150: Sturgeon Moon.
The first full moon of August is called the Sturgeon Moon, Grain Moon, Barley Moon or Red Moon.

Armageddon’s Arrival – prosery

 

Armageddon’s Arrival

I drift down the middle of the river, my paddle in the water only when necessary to navigate past hazards. And oh, are there hazards. Surrounded by the past, ablaze on the shores beside me and floating on the current that carries me, with little prospect for the future, my life is little more than the clothes on my back and as bleak as the landscape of death surrounding me.

Of what matter are the details that led to this tragic moment? One nation acted out of a desire to secure precious resources, another responded, and an Armageddon foretold through the ages has finally come to pass.

In the glow of the fires that surround me, everything is cloaked in the haze of smoke, and navigation becomes more difficult as dusk approaches. A red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills.

This bit of flash fiction is my response to Jazzing It up on Prosery Monday, presented by Lillian at dVerse ~ Poets Pub. With Prosery, the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. For this prompt, the line to be included is “a red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills” from Carl Sandburg’s “Jazz Fantasia”. My flash fiction also meets the additional challenge of hitting the 144-word mark, exactly. Other entries can be read here.

A Dream of Peace

A Dream of Peace

Beyond the horizon, that point
between here and there,
now and then, there is peace.

Freedom from strife,
often imagined, is the norm,
and harmony is enjoyed by all.

Beyond the horizon, the moon
calls to me. I wait for her to cast
her light on that peaceful scene.

This poem is my response to Triplets, the prompt from Frank at dVerse Poets,
calling for poems utilizing tercets.

The next full moon is at 2:12pm CST, 05 June 2020. Clouds are moving in tonight and expected through tomorrow, so I hope to catch a glimpse of the near-full moon tonight. I could use some peaceful moonlight. The top photo is of last month’s full moon.

*The second photo was taken this evening – 99% full – 05 June 2020
(Click images for larger view in new tab.)

Love’s Light

Love’s Light

moonbeams dance round
your face, mingle with the light
of nebulae swirling within
your eyes to shine on this heart,
a reality this writer struggles
to put into words

Reena’s Exploration Challenge #137 offers three phrases for inspiration:
     1. Writer’s Platform
     2. Writer’s Cave
     3. Writer’s Reality

This also is linked to Open Link Night #267

Image source: © Francesco Batistella via Astronomy Picture of the Day