With Resolve
Would I be that person again?
Am I not, still?
The anger that stewed within is gone,
resolved with understanding. Loss
weighs heaviest when dismissed.
Recognized, accepted, it still lives
within me, an empty space
never to be filled yet always holding
those who cannot be replaced.
This is my response to Reena’s Xploration Challenge #241, which offers this line as inspiration: “The only ghost that scares is a past version of you.”
Shared with OpenLinkNight #321 Blast Off!
Missed, in Any Weather
The farthest thing from my mind
when I’m chipping away
at the frozen layer on my driveway
on a chilly, mid-Missouri February morning
that, as usual, has as much rain as snow
is to wish for more of the same.
But here I am on a ninety-six degree day
in August crossing a Target parking lot
as I wade through heat waves
rising from the asphalt that remind me
of that Vegas hospital parking lot
in early June of ’93 after visiting Dad
and thinking he’d be flying home soon –
we know how that worked out –
wishing I could have one of those
ice-crusted snow days. Or better yet,
just one more minute working beside Dad
at Overland Express back in Buffalo
in the ’70s with the snow blowing
between the trailers and across the dock,
his face just as red from the cold
as it would get if he were here with me
on this hot, August Missouri day.
This is my response to Twiglet 290: ice-crusted snow.
As it happens this also meets the challenge for Poetics: Sometimes August isn’t recognized, the prompt from Sanaa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
Weather Doesn’t Wait
Thirteen times since early May, our weather has flirted with – no, made out with – temperatures of 90ºF or higher here in mid-Missouri. Since the beginning of the year, 83 days have had daily high temperatures that exceeded the normal range, with 4 record high temperatures set. All of this, while waiting for tomorrow’s start of summer.
weather doesn’t wait
for notes on a calendar
waiting for solstice
This is my response to Haibun Monday 6-20-22: Solstice,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
Image: Black Shire Distillery, Hermann, Missouri 19 June 2022
Lemonade In August
This late summer month, when the wind seldom gusts and the heat clings to the skin with an air of resignation, the knowledge that its persistence will not last, this month was your favorite. In your retirement you spent more time outdoors than in, as you gardened, tended to your animals, and prepared for the coming change in weather. Shirtless while mowing your acres of lawn or relaxing with a game of horseshoes, you wore that warm sun like it was your own. You were born to this month, and I always did see it as yours. You are always on my mind, but most especially in this month.
lemonade
beneath a hot sun
the still air
This haibun is my response to Haibun Monday 8-2-21: August,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
Image source: PNGITEM
Solar Separation
The sun rises and I embrace the warmth. I tan evenly over the course of the summer, but mindful of the power of those rays on my fair skin I limit my exposure and use sunscreen. Meanwhile, I spend my days making pickups and deliveries for a trucking company. Half of those hours are spent behind the wheel, often with the sun shining into my cab. I give little thought to that sun exposure. After all, there’s no sunburn. In fact, there’s no irritation, at all.
In my fifties, I learn the error in that assumption. I have some precancerous cells on the left side of my face frozen for removal. Two separate times, I have cancerous growths removed from my upper chest and shoulder. They can appear anywhere, even areas that get less exposure. The left side of my body seems to be the most affected, that which would have received the most sun exposure through the driver’s side window.
Dry patches on my face, primarily on the left side, are misdiagnosed by a dermatologist as a form of psoriasis, but they are correctly diagnosed as precancerous when I visit a cancer center for skin screening after moving to Missouri. Daily application of Efudex cream over several weeks gives me a face fit for a Star Trek alien when all of the precancerous areas are exposed, until the dead skin sloughs off and my face returns to normal.
That was six years ago, and there has been no recurrence. Summer has arrived, but my days in the sun are a thing of the past.
sun high overhead
shortest shadows of the year
days now grow shorter
This haibun is my response to Haibun Monday 6-21-21: Solstice I,
the prompt from Frank Tassone at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.
mid-treatment for precancerous skin damage
summer heat
forest gives refuge
in oak’s shade
Carpe Diem Exploring the Beauty of Haiku
#1828 Baransu (balance) discusses balancing
a haiku through association in its lines, or choosing
one element of a line to proceed to the next.
Here that association is from heat to refuge to shade.
I think this is the technique I use most often.
Image: One of the many oaks on the trails at Runge Nature Center in Jefferson City, Missouri
oppressive, still air
far distant rolling thunder
as birds fall silent
rain that does not want to fall
no relief from summer heat
This tanka may reflect conditions of late August, but it’s a response to
Tanka Splendor #25 Summer Heat, a prompt from mid-July that I missed while traveling.
Image source: morguefile.com
colorful blossom
returning light with beauty
lotus in the sun
clouds drifting across the sky
unable to steal its light
This tanka is my response to
Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #93: lotus.
Also, with light & beauty as this author’s choice of keywords, this is a response to
Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 134.
The prompt for Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #90 Crossroads
Summer Solstice (Troiku Hineri)
starts with two haiku by Jane Reichhold and Yosa Buson (in blue) to be used
to create a “fusion” haiku which is then to be the base for a troiku.
The hineri (or twist) is to use each of those haiku to create three new troiku.
this short night –
from a shallow well I scoop
a persimmon flower
Yosa Buson
solstice splits
between the peach halves
a red stone sun
© Jane Reichhold
~~~~~~~
hours before sunrise
a shallow well of darkness
summer solstice night
hours before sunrise
early morning dew on grass
field mouse in hiding
a shallow well of darkness
offers little time to hunt
owl returns to nest
summer solstice night
shadows fading into light
eyes closing at dawn
The three additional troiku follow, below.
hours before sunrise
tiny feet finding way home
safety of darkness
early morning dew on grass
faint signs of activity
traveler’s footprints
field mouse in hiding
snugly secure in its nest
before coming light
a shallow well of darkness
holding opportunity
for keen eyed hunter
offers little time to hunt
darkness giving way to light
before finding prey
owl returns to nest
spending the day in silence
patiently waiting
summer solstice night
approaches with setting sun
wings spread in darkness
shadows fading into light
successful night of hunting
hunger satisfied
eyes closing at dawn
owl hidden within shadows
waiting for nightfall
A troiku is three haiku, with each of the three lines from a suggested haiku as the first line of each haiku in the troiku. It’s not always possible to have a 5-7-5 format in the second haiku, due to the limitations of the suggested haiku. The name of the form is derived from “troika,” a sled or carriage drawn by three horses harnessed side-by-side, an iconic symbol of Imperial Russia.
Image sources:
Library of Congress
Bullfinch and Horned Owl, by Kitagawa Utamoro (cropped here)
wikimedia.org (troika)
shadows’ longest breath
warm light of midsummer eve
shorter days coming
This haiku is my response to Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #90: Midsummer.
Image: Summer Solstice 2009 – Niagara River
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