The Oracle gave me another delirious vision. With moons of course. The sun shadowing on my floor when I went to take the photos of my mandala added another dimension.
sleep away stormy seas–
beneath dreams whisper moons
shining bare like the winds
of roses blown into blue mist
where is the purple lake
of shadow sky?
show me the language of water
swimming through light
I consulted the Oracle for Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above.
enormous
this drunken light
raw seaspray yellow sky sun
in blue water lies moonsleep–
the wind a diamond goddess
above shadows of whispering rock
Every year fall foliage surprises us with its clichés. Fibers yellow on the edges, becoming brittle and brown. Scarlet fire burns itself into a colorless ash.
Memory preserves the departed colors, waiting in darkness.
We have been to this place many times before and yet still it catches us, wheeling us with the wind. Time contracts, translating itself into a hidden refuge, a seed to hold and protect through the long nights.
Life turns inward now–
sleep opening like the wings
of migrating birds
For Frank Tassone’s #Haikai Challenge #107, fall foliage.
I am
always only
partway there–
I know what to avoid
but not how
to release what has departed.
I used to chase the seasons–
now I wait for what is given–
intangible substances–
the perimeter expands,
the sky is higher,
placed carefully in the interval.
The predictable
always takes you by surprise–
you can still retreat
but you can’t follow any forecast–
the combinations are secret
and without form.
What remains is reflection–
the transient continually rearranged
into something resembling a life.
For Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, above. Magpies seem to be one of those places where opposites meet. What we take away from them depends on what we bring.
I’m not quite sure where this came from but, as always, the Oracle tells me what I need to hear.
Dreaming the mind into song
spirit finds blue light,
joins soaring voices sounding on wings–
Can I believe my luck?
The river dances away the tears
as time reflects music
laughing through the sacred language
of stars
each season
knows that its costumes
must be re
moved, decay
ing all at once to fleetingly
encircle the end
the old sub
tracted, the new feigns
silence as
it changes
into breath—colors conjured,
spilled, yielding to time
recrossing
the same distances
to return
to waiting,
awakening—each day be
stowed, ripened, revoked
A shadorma sequence for Colleen’s #tankaTuesday words, fall and give.
The nights here are cool, but the days are still mired in summer.
coming meets going–
the borders of transition
angled in new light
For Frank Tassone’s #haikai challenge #105, September Equinox.
