Private Audience ~ quadrille

Private Audience

Tucked out of sight beneath a rock ledge,
my kayak motionless on water
smooth as glass, I gaze from shadow
into light, spellbound by an aerial ballet
of swallows weaving around each other
as if choreographed in a performance
for an audience of one.

 This is my response to Quadrille #154: Casting a Poetic Spell, the prompt from Sanaa at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use a form of the word spell in a 44-word poem (excluding title), with no required meter or rhyme.

The Flight of Swallows

The Flight of Swallows

With no cooling breeze on a hot summer day,
I trail my paddle to direct my kayak
’round the bend to the middle of the narrow river
and a bridge that offers welcome shade
from the sun, now directly overhead.

Sunlight glances from my approaching waves
to shimmer on mud nests crowded together
on the beams beneath the bridge. Swallows fly
in the sunlight ahead as I rest for a moment,
amused by their aerial acrobatics.

Like needles that weave through currents of air,
they pass each other a mere breath apart,
wing never touching wing, a simple matter
for them, while this humble viewer is
content to be carried by the river’s current.

Continuing on, I pass beneath and among them
as they dart back and forth in a feeding frenzy.
A short while later, I turn upstream and watch them
once more before continuing home, hopeful
that I might weave words of their flight onto paper.

This poem is my response to The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #513.

needlesbreathrivertouchswallowssummer
    humblepaperbendsimplebeamscrowd

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Making Their Own Breeze ~ with audio

Making Their Own Breeze

The water of the Moreau River,
as motionless as the leaves of the giant sycamore
half-submerged with roots projecting skyward,
victim of spring’s high waters but determined
to send nourishment to branches willing
those leaves to life, and as still as the air
on this hot August day as my kayak sits
under a stone ledge, too high for me to reach
when volume and current are stolen by the recent
lack of rain, still feels cool to the touch in this shade
I have found, shared by the bank swallows darting
to their nests and back into the sunlight, no breeze
needed for their aerial antics as they skim the water
for a drink, then rocket up, only to turn abruptly
to feed in flights that would make any bat proud,
all of this reflected in that still water of the Moreau.

This poem is my response to Poetics: Flight of Fancy,
the prompt from Laura at dVerse ~ Poets Pub.

A New Year Begins – tan renga

A New Year Brgins

A new year begins
With the blooming
Of a single frosty rose
                         (Mizuhara Shuoshi)

swallow’s song greets the new dawn
memory of snow soon fades

This is my response to Carpe Diem Tan Renga Challenge Month May 29th, write two lines to follow a given hokku, essentially creating a tanka.  The original haiku is by Japanese poet Mizuhara Shuoshi (1892-1981).

Image source: wallpaperscraft.com