or might have been
A senryū for the New Year.
Image: Sunrise on Lake Ontario
For the briefest moment in this shortest span
of daylight, the clouds part to reveal the sun,
as if to say, “Fear not. I am still here,
my light growing, the darkness receding
with each new day, each glance I pass your way.”
Image: Missouri, 3:19pm CST 21 December 2019 (7 hours short of Winter Solstice)
Notes, while driving with Brubeck
(random riffs recorded on the road)
Concrete seams click beneath
the rapid turn of wheels
trying to impress the need
for arrival, as a sax greets an expanse of blue
waving on a horizon breaking free
of its cloudy blanket, revealing
more blue as grapevines,
in row after orderly row, march
up a snow covered slope,
drummer keeping the beat.
Gulls wander in from the lake,
and hilltop turbines can’t keep up.
Five takes, and no photo worthy of saving.
This ain’t no St. Louis, but the sky is still blue.
Prisms merge, dance in a semi-
transparent semi-circle, peripheral
sensation, kaleidoscopic aura
with its own volition. Sending,
not calling, message unknown.
Left, alone, with no companion
on the right side of anything,
it fades and swells, a pulsing
wave in a brief window of time,
a distraction with no direction.
I was able to take some nice photos while hiking at Painted Rock Conservation Area last Monday. The next day, while editing some of those photos, I experienced an ocular migraine that lasted about one half-hour. There was no headache, but I did have an aura, a prismatic band of light in an arc that stayed at the far left of my vision, no matter where my eyes tracked. When these occur, it’s hard to concentrate or get anything done; they’re just so fascinating. They seem more apparent if I keep my gaze fixed. Of course, I have to start all over again when I try to glance at them, because they’re always peripheral and move when my eyes move. BUT, the aura stays, no matter which eye I cover. Yes, fascinating.
Photo (pre-edit) taken at Painted Rock Conservation Area, Missouri, 05 November 2019
(right click on image for larger view in new tab)
I’m also linking this to Thankfulness… at Open Link night/dVerse.
bright burst of color
leaving blanket of dry leaves
this path to autumn
This haiku is my response to Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 152 #Poet’sChoice.
Photos taken 5 November 2019 while hiking at Painted Rock Conservation Area, Missouri.
(Click both images for larger view in new tab.)
Do you still keep those memories
we once held dear, now that we have
nothing else to share? The one thing
we could not divide between us
dwindled away for me, once we went
our separate ways, leaving nothing
but faint memories of memories.
This is my response to Quadrille #91 – Keep — the prompt from Kim at dVerse, which is to use the word keep in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.