a poem in my pocket

el derecho blows

roiling storm moves in straight line

knocking cornfields flat

In honor of Carpe Diem Haiku Kai’s 8th anniversary…congratulations to host, Chevrefeuille!

ripe pumpkins in field

colors of maple and oak

harvest of haiku

as a poet cannot

make a muse move,

a prophet cannot

demand a message

but listen and wait for

Spirit’s quiet flame

when light of truth shines

do we crawl into shadow?

when brutal history repeats

do we hide behind mask?

world system in rebellion

haters will project hate and

throw Christians to the lions to

tempt God to shut their mouths

but Lion of Judah will roar as

the last Word on the last day.

___________________________________________________

When I read Lisa’s challenge to write in the “vatic voice”, I wasn’t sure I’d have anything to say. As usual, I waited and let the idea roll around in my mind. I heard news of rude criticisms of SCOTUS nominee, Amy Coney Barrett, and her adoption of children from Haiti and it seems she is “suspect” because of her faith. Then something sparked in me…

Find truth based in actual reality

We hold these truths to be self-evident

Apply truth to every human being

that all men are created equal;

Recognize the real Source of truth

that they are endowed by their Creator

Protect individual rights against mob “truth”

with certain unalienable rights;

Defend the basic truth of the right to life

that among these are life,

Allow persons to pursue truth freely…

liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

…because the Truth will set you free!

Image from Radio Canada (2018)

broken shadows across the cracked ground
skeletal corpses of burned trees
rising eerily above
ancient fir forest floor
littered with creatures
choked by the smoke
victims in
wildfire
ash

A nonet is nine lines of poetry, beginning with first line of 9 syllables, second line of 8 syllables…descending to one line of 1 syllable. The first line of my nonet is taken from W. S. Merwin’s poem, To the Light of September. I am linking to dVerse poets pub where Laura hosts tonight…

In bleak January, as calving season approaches, we check cows during the night. It’s usually a quiet, clear, and cold walk through the cattle yard with a flashlight. Above earth’s shadow, the Milky Way spills stars across an expectant sky. The rib of crescent moon leans toward eye of Venus blinking down on contented mamas-to-be.

They chew, then sigh with heavy breath as ribs expand to carry spring’s developing calves to term. Gentle bovine eyes shine with pregnant reflection behind frosty eyelashes, longer than winter. Some stand by empty bunk, licked clean, while others fold knobby legs and wide hooves underneath them to rest, barrel-bodied, on bedding straw. They turn their heavy heads, nostrils flare to smell, as I pass by.

What do cows think about, meditating on their cud? I do believe that “in their dreams, they sleep with the moo-n.”

Quote from Mary Oliver’s Death at Wind River; link to dVerse prosery.

Oh Lord,

we are helpless in our sin

without your grace,

we are hapless in our misery

without your mercy,

we are hopeless in our death

without your peace,

only YOU can save!

Grace, mercy, and peace be to you from God our Father

through our Lord Jesus Christ…Amen.

didn’t mean to be
eavesdropping, sitting
in auction ring gallery
waiting for our cattle to sell
when two buyers in front of us
start shooting the bull about
their new houses:
“7000 square feet”
“WHY?!”
“because I can!”

yet farmers can’t get square price…

Join dVerse poets serving up quadrilles today…