in fall of life

Invited into lovely white farmhouse one September morning, we gather around dining room table set with china, candles, fresh flowers. Vintage prints frame one wall; shelves of antique clocks tick in corner. It’s coffee/tea time, whichever you prefer, complemented by dainty pastries, breads, and berries passed around full circle of women.

Miguela, our gregarious hostess, immigrated years ago as new bride from the Philippines. “Jellie’s” friend secretly submitted her profile to newspaper “dating” column…lonely Iowa farmer responded. Within year of written correspondence and phone calls, she was charmed and they were married. A long distance romance blossomed… eventually seeding two children.

After tea, we admire Jellie’s flowers which surround the house with blooms all summer long. She apologizes the gardens are past prime but plenty of flowers still beckon us. Hydrangeas, zinnias, roses, and exotic Asian plants attract butterflies and hummingbirds.

* * * * *

seven hummingbirds

with green caps and ruby throats

flit among feeders


Later, we spill out of two cars with smiles and laughter into warm autumn afternoon. Clutch of classy lassies has enjoyed monthly outings for twenty-five years; in fact, our charter member planned today’s field trip. Our fun fashion of red hats and purple t-shirts glitter with glam in the autumn sunshine.

Mary, experienced tour guide with a teacher’s heart, shows us around Lakeside Laboratory campus on West Lake Okoboji. The outdoor lab, founded in 1909 covers one hundred forty-seven acres of woods, prairie, wetlands, and shoreline. Dr. Thomas Macbride, University of Iowa, established lab for “the study of nature in nature.”

We hike hilly circuit of beautiful old stone buildings constructed during depression era by Civilian Conservation Corps. Summer students have finished research projects, leaving behind hip boots, fish nets, test tubes and empty hallways. Acorns from ubiquitous oak trees drop and roll off roofs and onto walking paths.

* * * * *

hundred year old oak

rooted strong, gnarly, ancient

acorn in pocket

______________

Haibuns served at dVerse Poets pub with Mish hosting!

rock collector

swaddled baby lay in stone manger

boy grows skills as carpenter mason

learns plumb, rule, chisel from father

is tempted to turn stones into bread

but will not live on devil’s hard tack

rabbi whets hunger of discipled hearts

prompts petra’s rock solid profession

weeps on palm littered road into city

children and stones cry out his praises

but hard hearted crowds yell “crucify!”

he stumbles with cross on same pavers

as suffering hones his mission’s passion

earth quakes, rocks split, he yields spirit

wrapped body lay in stone cold tomb

he leaves grave clothes folded on slab

now actively quarries with measured cuts

to raise new temple built of living stones

artwork by Mike Moyers 2022

future revelation

“Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.” *

pay attention to Logos
the first and the last Word
who embodies hidden manna
if you have ears, use them to
listen and believe, remember

hold fast to faith, claim victory
reward of pure white stone
written with glorified real name
smooth in overcomer’s fingers
testament to commuted virtue

signifies acquittal from guilt and
condemnation, seen as worthy
in the Master’s eyes, welcomed
with solid ticket to the kingdom
as he persevered, so shall we!

_____________

*Revelation 2:17 NIV

a warm retreat

A quadrille for dVerse poets hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg…

in heart of home
is hearth of stone
a cozy inglenook

all those who roam
are welcomed home
to familiar inglenook

tired souls feel inspired
near kindle logs fired
in blazing inglenook

after supper, table clear,
fond stories beg to hear
by comforting inglenook


INGLENOOK (noun, English) – A close intimate corner by a fireplace where people gather for warmth; from “ingle”, a hearth (Scots).

Stone-Fireplace

ruins

 

ancient stone pillars

“how impressive!” people say

snow covers rubble

© lynn__

 

inspired by this classic haiku:

“An ancient road,” they say
How charming
Though beneath this snow.

© Yosa Buson

 


Joining Carpe Diem Haiku Kai‘s 7th anniversary celebration!

fly like an eagle

 

“Aye, glen eyrie…
valley of eagles’s nest,”

spoken by scottish landscaper
adopted by american railroad tycoon
as name for estate & manor

dream designed for cherished “queen”
nestled within rocky mountains
stone garden of the gods

she suffered heart attack
never lived in her castle

 

IMG_7886

photo by lynn

voice of northern lights

Folk music of Iceland featured at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai


 

 

undulating waves

over tundra, glacial stone

land of fire and ice

 

 

 

 

 

celtic music

Irish folk music featured at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. This song was produced a few years ago by a Celtic band, Eden’s Bridge, and sung by Sarah Lacey.

https://youtu.be/mHLcJ0aXR2g

 

seek a shiny stone

gaze down, collect in pocket

miss glory of the sea

 

 

 

ewe ain’t seen mutton yet

dVerse poetics prompt to use street names: Mutton Lane, Shoulder of Mutton Alley


 

The town grew up around a humble sheep farm. A stone farmhouse, before they razed it, had stood a hundred years, with sheepfold attached. The last farmer, third generation of sheep farmers in the family, built a butcher shop behind the house to diversify his business. His only son, Marcus, was known as a young boy for his skill at mutton busting (sheep riding) at the local fair. Once, he entered a national competition, winning a trophy which surpassed his own height and glittered like gold. The townspeople ooohed and aahhed when Marcus returned as a local celebrity. The farm and sheep are gone, but Marcus’s grandchildren still live on Mutton Lane and manage the butcher shop adjacent to Shoulder of Mutton Alley.

 

an old stone sheepfold

see one’s breath doing farm chores

bleating of the lambs

 

 

dust to dust

Link to Sammi Cox’s weekend prompt on “destiny”.


no survivors here

man wrestles with destiny

life’s dash etched in stone

listen in cemetery

silence of eternity

“But still, like dust, I’ll rise” – Maya Angelou

IMG_3014

photo by lynn

sentence of the americas

 

Stone-faced Mayan warrior greets

descendants in San Antonio.

 

IMG_0304

photo & american sentence by lynn

 

Linking to Word Press Photo Challenge: “Face”

perfect skipping stone

 

bitterness weighs

like smooth stone

in a deep pocket,

turned over and

over and over, worn

by the long fingers

of hurtful memories;

familiar, uncomfortable

too full of mean-ing.

 

choose to limp

with lumpy baggage

or let forgiveness

reach firmly into

heart’s hidden folds,

remove hard burden

and fling it far,

leaving space

for lighter grace.