snow is late to leave
spring has come in full measure
no less welcome now
______________________________________
for Day 21 of NaPoWriMo 2014. “better to be late than never” ~ Peter Sellers
a haiku for peace
a joy that renews
rebirth of life and hope
the woods are reborn
___________________________________
for Day 20, Easter Sunday, NaPoWriMo 2014. catching up.
breathing
this new season
takes slow breaths
deep, silent, fresh
shaking off,
at times impatiently
the frozen crust
that claimed us all
for far too long
there is only gentleness
in her morning sighs today,
soft rain drops light
on flowers, birds and grass
and in my thoughts
startled, I see lilac buds
and they are green,
surely not since yesterday?
but, yes they are,
a swift and stealthy
gift from spring
and I bloom too
_______________________________
spring is mercurial as we all know. two steps forward… for Day 23 of NaPoWriMo.
riding earth
the dogs and I emerge
and head for freedom
tunneled through our woods,
a path of rich delights,
the sights and smells of life
lived on another scale,
returning home
renewed
today I feel connected
beyond my simple paradise,
as this glorious ship
sails through
the light and dark of space
as we live on her, taking
more than giving, plucking
fruits that may not
always grow again
and though some care,
the press of each day’s life
forces most to singular survival
not sure, or even caring
that the aggregated slag
of heedless use
will surely leach away
her life blood
and then ours
unless we love
our mother, steadfast
and protect her still rich bounty
simply for the joy
it brings us now
we will surely have denied
the birthright of
those loved ones
not yet born
______________________________
I have always loved the connectedness I feel on earth day. For Day 22 of NaPoWriMo 2014.
a haiku of thanks
winter has left us
prayers of faith, gratitude
rising up in joy
______________________________
for day 19 of NaPoWriMo 2014
bright shadows
a snowless moon, if full
is no less bright
with patterned shadows
stretching over grass
and creeping up the outer walls,
those dark, strong arms
that cast their reach
like rod and line
out over streams,
a weightless overlay,
yet angular and hard.
my room is bright,
the window’s echo
stands in bold relief
against the wall,
angled down in stark perspective
as the moon begins to set.
__________________________________
the moon, nearly full last night, cast amazing shadows both inside and outside, which stayed with me until I woke up this morning. Day 18 of NaPoWriMo 2014.
rhythm
red squirrel is graceful
moving in then out for seeds
almost keeping time
I love the rhythmic movement of the squirrels at “their” feeder in the crotch of our apple tree, reaching down to take a seed, then up, then down again. For Day 17 of NaPoWriMo.
Venus waiting
From my pillow, just awake
I saw the eastern sky,
spread clear and pale behind
still leafless trees,
hung with a glowing light
among their limbs.
I first thought to deny
this star so close to sunrise,
then felt its beacon’s pull,
guiding me to daylight
from the darkness of a dream
so gladly left.
________________________________
the first view of the day ahead is often evocative for me. This morning Venus was hanging in the trees, as though waiting for me to wake up. She gradually faded as the sun drew nearer and my dark dream receded.
showers
this morning I wake up to rain
with tear-dense clouded skies,
and feel as though I’ve slept in vain
not sleepy, no, just heavy eyes
a heart that lightens more each moment,
slowly I begin to move, first thoughts like sighs
today, a gift, is mine, sufficient,
hoping for some joy, I know its feel
certain that I’m not omniscient
but richer both in spirit and in will
_________________________________________
15th day poetry prompt, a terza rima. I am not comfortable with rhyme, but getting there.
a haiku for found objects
down in our back woods
I found the bear’s prize seed bin
empty but with scoop
The Raid
We think she ambled up our hill
and grabbed the seed bin
left outside our door
then took her prize down to
the stream-cut woods
behind the house to feast
Our feeders are aswarm again
returning snowbirds and
winter stalwarts busy feeding
none of whom would care she came
unless denied their food
But the squirrels and I are glad
that she was choosy in her way
Do you think if I asked nicely
she would return my scoop?
fermenting love
shall we raise love’s goblet now,
so soon, to drink raw wine
this vintage newly casked,
or should we free
our senses to absorb
time’s sun and water,
ripening our feelings gently
matching nature’s earthy rhythm,
gathered in at peak and pressed,
their bursting essence flowing into
stout oak cradles to ferment
and morph to richness
on the tongue and in the heart,
is this not worth the wait?
note: this is an Anacreontic, a poem about love and wine. done with no set meter or rhythm. Today’s prompt on the NaPoWriMo.com site.
________________________________
poem and photograph © 2014 KH Rantilla. all rights reserved.
Life With Horace 