Romantic nature
paves the path with gold – river
adds sweet harmony.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â river/ path. Â Image from personal collection.)
Romantic nature
paves the path with gold – river
adds sweet harmony.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â river/ path. Â Image from personal collection.)
Vultures come
sharpen talons and beaks
tear at necrotic flesh
pick this carcass clean
I need a committee
to rid me of parasitic past
trauma’s cadaver
weighing me down.
(Linking up to Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â A macabre bird and poem to fit the season. Â Image from personal collection)
In Mallard’s wake woe –
with clipped wings, I watch and yearn
for Winter sojourn.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day, and RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: wake/wail)
Fields glisten –
golden satisfaction –
eagle soars above
Sun on river gleams
a glorious farewell
my heart joins eagle.
(Image from personal collection.)
Feathers fanned pronounce
prowess of river raven –
deep diver, swift flight.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Image from personal collection.)
Sure-footed
she navigates
forest floor
leaps over
obstacles,
scales inclines
knows each
nook and cranny
every sound
a greeting
but seasons pass
and time erodes
landscapes
and senses
lose sharpness
the nuances
of the woods
fading  memory
the wind’s whispers
elusive signals
inner nymph silenced.
(For Ragtag Community’s Daily Prompt: elusive. Â Image from personal collection.)
The river holds so many surprises
least of which is the sudden appearance
at water’s edge of a tall white egret –
a countenance I acquaint with Texas
and warmer climes – what wonder
to find this greatness at my backdoor.
(The Great Egret is common in coastal areas, but not a bird I have encountered in Ontario, until now. Â Linking up with Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.)
Through thickening brush
light whispers, beckons – forest
ripe with mystery.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: forest /whisper. Â Image from personal collection.)
My forward movement
startles us both –
you ground foraging
with the robins,
me delighted
by a flash of red –
heart at your nape.
You rise, alight
on tree branch
your squeaky call,
warning or greeting
stops me in my track –
patiently I wait
as you circle the tree
head bobbing, alert,
till we both settle
and my lens succeeds.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day. Â Image from personal collection.)
Long since
dawn’s early
observation,
have witnessed
patriarchy’s
inequalities
first hand
second hand
lack a solution,
short of vengeance –
perpetrate rather
than end the cycle
of crime –
no place
to call home.
(Image from personal collection.)