A succession of tweets
draws me to riverbed
where tiny legs scurry
across exposed rocks.
Foraging amongst
soggy offerings,
the Spotted Sandpiper
exudes confidence.
It is female who
choses breeding ground,
prepared to defend
her clan, appoints
her mates to mind
the young – she is
polyamorous, hormone
driven – a force.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.)
Romantic nature
paves the path with gold – river
adds sweet harmony.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â river/ path. Â Image from personal collection.)
Fields glisten –
golden satisfaction –
eagle soars above
Sun on river gleams
a glorious farewell
my heart joins eagle.
(Image from personal collection.)
Through thickening brush
light whispers, beckons – forest
ripe with mystery.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: forest /whisper. Â Image from personal collection.)
Autumn winds fevered –
constraint not an option when
fierce Winter follows.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â fever/ fierce)
Must have been the heat –
lazy August sun reaching
through Willow sway –
or maybe the laughter
bubbling up from brook –
had me so ensorcelled
I swear I saw the veil slip,
beheld faery beings –
a second of enchantment
then gone…
Be as trees, reaching
canopy of harmony,
gratitude implied.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â gratitude / harmony. Â Photo from personal collection.)
Late August nights cool
burnt dry hues
will soon transform –
symphony of colour
There is sorrow
in Summer’s end;
Autumn’s icy breath
Winter’s warning.
Idleness is not a ploy
asserted by the river,
her banks, ever vital,
project confidence –
life’s continuum
Her waters, sturdy,
fluctuating, tame
the deepest emotions
I come to the river
hoping to imbibe,
to be intoxicated
in her presence
I come to the river
to be revived.
A spot of red
and dash of yellow
bandana masked eyes
how you transport me
to simpler times –
childhood days
when you and I
wiled away hours
hidden deep
beneath summer
canopies – maple,
beech and willow –
listened for whispers
on the wind,
searched for treasure
on rocky creek bottom.
Years since our paths
have crossed like this,
have you returned
as reminder –
your sweetness
a blessing, now
that I only linger
at woods’ edge?
No matter the reason,
I am content
that we meet again,
my friend of old.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Photo from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 