Etheree form: unrhymed without meter, one stanza of 10 lines, graduating from 1 to 10 syllables (Laura adds lines 11 & 12 with just 2 syllables each to give shape of Christmas tree).Linking to dverse poets…
see a spruce in backyard of childhood home reaches for the clouds shelter for nesting birds hide-away for brown squirrels branches thick and full to tree top rises as blue neighborhood landmark until it plays the part of lightning rod and falls blackened
Listen to silent barn; cattle chores
finished when farmer turns out light
as darkness falls.
Listen to busy crickets, fiddle
incessantly from damp ditch grass
as darkness falls.
Listen to tall corn grow, stretching
and squeaking to whorled height
as darkness falls.
Listen to lightning bug wings
chirr while rising to spark new mate
as darkness falls.
Listen to killdeer warn their
nestlings to huddle in feather bed
as darkness falls.
Listen to far stars, singing ancient
alien lullaby with grandmother moon
as darkness falls.
A pastoral poem in six tercets, patterned after Jane Kenyon’s “Let Evening Come” and linked to Kim’s mini challenge at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.
I’ll walk down our gravel road, usually alone with God, or sometimes with my neighbor and her boys. We chat along the way and soon we’re back home. I used to take my husky…or she used to take me (I miss my fast and furry companion). I walk a mile or two for the exercise and fresh air.
Other times, I’ll meander through our grove of trees sheltering our house and farm buildings. I go to tune in nature, clear my head and calm my heart. I listen to bird calls, admire the foliage stage of the trees or mushrooms in the grass, and perhaps pick up sticks blown down by our last wind storm.
A bold rabbit hops closer and pauses to observe me observing him. Long ears twitch before he hops for cover under blue spruce. A black-bibbed flicker tap taps in tree until I pass below; he bobs and flits away. I startle a handsome ring-necked pheasant which whirs up, startling me. Bending down, I pick up a perfect robin’s egg that fell out of the nest, unbroken.
oak trees hold old leaves
prairie winds buffet farm grove
birds mourn fallen nest
Bjorn inviting us to take a walk with dVerse Poets this week…
it’s spring! i need to dig in dirt
worm’s work brings happiness
while birds and bees MAY flirt
oh spring! i need to dig in dirt
even if knees might hurt and
fingernails witness a mess
let’s sing! i need to dig in dirt
worm’s work brings happiness
Yes, I like to dig in the dirt. Worms make me happy because they enrich the soil. Everyone should have a little plot of land or a pot of dirt to dig in. Gardening is an elemental activity, part of our DNA code; our calling to work the ground and take care of the earth. Photo taken by me with one hand, holding favorite garden trowel with other 🙂
Joining Carpe Diem Haiku Kai‘s weekend challenge on sunflower theme. I wrote the prose, followed by a haiku from our host!
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.
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