Category: nature

Cricket Cacophony

Clouds cluster, warn of coming storms.   Having been shut in for days, I am anxious to get outside.  Trusty camera carefully secured around my neck,  hands firm on walker’s grip, I begin my slow stroll through the neighbourhood.   A gust of wind disrupts the flight of a bumblebee, and we collide: he striking my cheek.  I step back, startled.  No damage done.

I follow a walkway, built between the houses, leading to our community center. This route takes me past rows of flourishing gardens – a feast of vibrancy.  I slow to watch the bees delightedly dancing from bloom to bloom.  At the edge of my friend’s house, I hear the crickets, loud and raucous, as if they know that she is currently away.  I pause to listen, surprised to hear such unabashed chirping mid-day.

Lingering, I hope to catch a glimpse of one, maybe even a photograph, but the creatures are securely tucked in the shadows of the overgrown foliage, oblivious to my presence.   I capture the flight of a bee, and the elegant profile of a mourning dove, and then turn back. A white winged moth brushes my hand in passing and then stops long enough for me to take a picture.  The crickets keep on singing.

Midday crickets sing –
revel in nature’s bounty,
as storm clouds gather.

(Written for dVerse, hosted tonight by Victoria.)

Moss

The past clings,
like moss, nurtured
by tears unshed,
like sap untapped,
warps minds,
sense of self,
craves perceptional
shift –
a vernal appreciation
for the grandeur
of our contours,
brilliance of wisdom
garnered through strife –
the undeniable elegance
of lush green moss.

(Photo from personal collection: rainforest on Vancouver Island.)

Silken

How delicate
these threads
that bind us –
frail filaments,
whispery darts
of affection –

How willfully
we ignore connection,
ignore ensuing pain…
individuality usurping
love’s needs –
a harsh lesson.

(Inspired by the featured image and written for the daily prompts:
Fandango: lesson; Ragtag Community: dart; Daily Addictions: frail.)

Water (Haiku and Free Verse)

(Inspired by Steve Still Standing‘s  “An Exercise in Poetic Styles”)

Even the river bleeds –
fiery frigid essence –
earth’s watery voice.

***

It is the river
that calls, waters flowing
through my veins
and I am the banks
steadfast in my holding

the razor sharp edges
like liquid steel
eroding my earthen
postures, challenging
the hardened places.

Night Calls

A shrill note
pierces night’s curtain –
an insistent, pestering alarm

Is it loneliness
that motivates the caller –
the need for a warm body
to calm her feathered fears
or a throaty hum to lull her?

Or is this an infant cry,
a hunger for nourishment
anxious in separation
waiting for mother’s
regurgitated assurances,
father’s watchful stance.

An onerous honk
breaks through
the high-pitched peep
and then, as
warmth wanes
a softer, sweeter
melody presents
followed by
a laughing trill

avian pleasure
prefacing night’s slumber.