swoosh of the fukuroo

Join Victoria at dVerse Poets for this week’s haibun prompt: Who? Who? Fukuroo!


 

Late one winter afternoon, I strap on snowshoes, grab my poles and make tracks in powder. The dusky sky glows pale pink as I shush into deep silence. Spruces dusted with fresh snow, wear skirts of blue-hued drifts and beckon me to maneuver their folds. I am tramping a wonderland beneath thin-fingered canopy of ash tree silhouettes. Startled, I flinch as a heavy winged shadow glides closely overhead with a swish-sh-sh of displaced air. An owl swoops low before sweeping onto a bare upper branch fifty yards ahead. I approach cautiously as owl’s head swivels toward me. Notice the unmistakable tufts like ears…it’s the great-horned fukuroo of my dreams!

 

listen, owl’s hooting

images

free stock image

heard often yet rarely seen

great-horned fukuroo!

sunflower power

Joining Carpe Diem Haiku Kai‘s weekend challenge on sunflower theme.  I wrote the prose, followed by a haiku from our host!


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wild sunflower – photo by lynn

 

The sight of sunflowers warms my heart, although my farmer hubby says they’re a weed. I remember as a child planting a few sunflowers in the backyard on east side of detached garage. The plants grow faster than children and their sunny faces exude happiness bright as summer sun. When autumn comes, their smiles fade, petals dry, and seeds mature. Oh, what a joyous feast for the birds! Sparrows flutter and cling to droopy head to peck tasty seeds. We let them eat the raw seeds as we prefer the roasted, salted variety. Dad would have a bag along to ball games or car races where we’d leave striped shells scattered under the bleachers; shells sucked dry of salt until the tips of our tongues went numb. On vacation, I still thrill at roadside sightings of expansive fields of sunflowers; their golden heads tipped toward the sun. On my walks, spotting more diminutive wild versions in the ditches (NOT our fields) brings a smile to my face.

 

blooming sunflowers
reaching for the early light of the sun –
birds praise their Creator
© Chèvrefeuille

above & beyond

Lillian at dVerse Poets invites us to “look up” and marvel at pictures from Hubble Space Telescope…

Artist's concept of exoplanet orbiting Fomalhaut

Credit: ESA, NASA and L. Calçada (ESO); ESA/Hubble

 

You, who spins
planets in place
calls stars by name
speaks light into
hot existence

You, whose wisdom
births bright galaxies
weighs gravity’s laws
measures our time
expands space

You alone are
worthy of worship

we, who spin
on watery planet
stare at your stars
depend on light
of dying sun

we, whose
understanding
reflects your image
yet live limited by
gravity, time, space

we bow in awe at
Your cosmic beauty!

 

 

rode the mother road

Joining dVerse poets with quadrille #44 for “kicks” tonight 🙂  A “quadrille” is a poem of exactly 44 words, not including title…I counted hyphenated words as 2.

 

since nineteen

twenty-six, midway

thru roarin’ twenties,

classic car aficionados

cooly cruised or raced

rip-roarin’ midway

across america’s past,

passed, and passing

drive-ins, diners,

and wigwam motels

motoring along

singing a song

wheeling to

get their kicks

on route sixty-six!

 

 

 

 

 

mi quintilla

 

dia de los muertos

fiesta de los cuerpos

la dulce vida

vaya rapida

!alabanza!  porque días son cortos

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free image – pixabay

will you play?

Response to Elsie’s tanka challenge using: prepare & surprises

 

games prepare children

for life’s odd wins and losses

Candyland delight

anticipate surprises

outcomes are all in the cards

 

images

(free clip art)

reaching new heights

 

 

mastery of self

discipline offers freedom

on winds of conquest

 

 

 

 

Inspiration from music featured at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

 

 

 

fill the emptiness

 

empty of myself

my energy depleted

fill my cup again

i thirst for living water

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photo by lynn

only you can satisfy

 

 

(in history’s) defense

Joining dVerse Poets and Victoria’s “erasure poem” prompt.  I took mine from a non-fiction Maters of Art book, The Story of Architecture, by Francesco Milo.

 

 

feudal lords IMG_5181
built castles to
protect against
barbarians assailing

timber stockade
consisting of mound
palisade and ditch
motte-and-bailey castle

mighty stone towers or
keeps designed in
combination of gate-
house and outer wall

fortified residences
feudal nobility dwell
in relative safety
houses huddle

around in village
walled formidably
then advent of
artillery and cannon

…Carcassonne!

 

epic warfare

 

fantasy music–

dragon warriors battle

Conqueror of the Sky

spiritual warfare will

determine men’s destiny

 

 

Inspiration and, more haiku/tanka posted at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

creeaak!

 

Our farm buildings are nestled in the protective elbow of the grove, my personal woodland. A variety of trees shield us from the blast of winter’s northwest winds. Along outer L-shaped perimeter stand two rows of blue spruce, planted early in our marriage; mountain trees for this Colorado girl transplanted to prairie. Now the rows are closed to lawnmowers and snow shoers.

Inside the west crook, reside old ash and gnarly box elder, here long before my husband’s parents bought the farm site. Random maple, scattered throughout, blaze in autumn’s golden glory. Near the road, three small birch wave at passers-by. A few more spruce shelter the apple orchard, now consisting of two prodigious trees, we planted by our driveway.

On the north, two straight rows of ash, summit and bergesen, join hands high to form a long leaf-adorned aisle where migrating monarchs flit in early fall. Next to these, six red oak raise their proud heads and stubbornly hang onto dead leaves until next spring.

Sadly, severe weather, disease, or insect pests eventually claim even the best of our trees. Walk past an old dead tree on a windy day and hear the creaking. Better to get chainsaw out before it falls where we don’t want it to. Its wood will warm us in winter and we are grateful.

 

young saplings attend
but cannot stop life cycle
dryad’s dying scream

 

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photo by lynn

 

 

gotta love that face!

 

hound dog’s brown eyes sad

as homeward bound campers pack

wags his tail goodbye

 

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photo by lynn

 

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