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
A quadrille about the new moon for dVerse , hosted by Mish, and Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge.
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.
The day is dreary and cold. A passing subway train, nearly empty, rattles the window as I remove the screen. A few black umbrellas walk by.
The apartments on the opposite side of my building look out on the river and the park. I wonder if they see signs of spring emerging through the grey blur of the rain.
blossoms fill the sky
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #131, first cherry blossoms. I did the artwork sometime last year, and saved it for spring. The seasons will come, with or without our approval.