beginnings fall in
to ends—threads of song braided
into rainbowed clouds
light and form cascade, flying
in tandem—mist layered sky
visions of windsong–
waves play currents of magic
painting textured light
Inspired by the photos of Phil Gomm, I tried to recreate one of his beautiful fields. I will need to explore this further, and of course, as always, I think it needs some stitching. (I’ll add that in my spare time…)
For Trank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #148 summer meadow.
It’s so unbearably hot here, it’s hard to find much motivation. Con Ed keeps calling to warn me the power might go off due to everyone overloading the grid by using their air conditioners. (I have open windows and 3 fans.) They are promising us a break on Friday.
bending air, a bridge–
rampant hues filling the gap
between heaven and earth
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #145, wild iris. I had promised Jade I would look for some of my old iris drawings, but I also found this rainbow spirit that somehow resembles an iris–Iris is the Greek rainbow goddess, messenger and link between mortal and deity.
The drawings are from one of my many abandoned projects, taking a journal from 1989, and doing something similar (at that time in 2015) and comparing them. 1989 is on the left, 2015 is on the right. If I could buy a bouquet, I would try it again right now, as both were done from live flowers. Maybe next year.
shapeshifting through time
in light laid bare by absence
a clash of silence
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #144, solstice.
My mother’s cousin Paul was a pilot who was shot down and killed in WWII. She often spoke of him with admiration and affection.
When my mother died, she left boxes of unidentified family photos; my aunt helped a bit with identifications, but she was much younger than her siblings, and had not known the southern Ohio cousins very well. In my mother’s address book, I found her second cousin Mona, Paul’s niece, who patiently looked through many photo scans I emailed her.
Finally I had a face to put to my mother’s words.
silence speaks your name–
through distant shadows of trees
crow answers, calling
This is a revision of a post from 2015. However we are spending this day, let’s take a moment to remember those who served their country and sacrificed their lives so that we could enjoy our own.
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #140, Memorial Day.
ghosts of lilacs
shimmer with butterflies
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #139 fragrant breeze.
hidden under flowered fields
waiting for the moon
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge.
The moon was playing hide and seek with the clouds last night.
mirrors of pink look up
into grey skies
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #136, late cherry blossoms.
What ritual words should I offer to the absent moon’s shadow? A love potion that merges opposite energies into absolute stillness? A howl that resets the journey and flushes away the dark tides with glittering waves of stars?
fills to overflowing
After not venturing outside at all for weeks, I finally worked up the courage to take the elevator down to the basement and exit the back door, crossing the street to the park. My apartment windows face Broadway and the view this weekend was especially chilly and grey.
I figured the bitter wind and drizzle, plus the early hour, would keep the walkway fairly empty, and I was right. A few joggers, some dog walkers, a man with a shopping cart.
I could hear robins, and then two appeared on the path right in front of me. I was in a different time and space. The world had been returned to me in color, at least for half an hour on a Sunday morning.
outside it’s spring–
inside winter remains
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #132, Coronavirus.