Pain no longer a threat
having found numbness –
semi-permanent vacation
from insistence of
chronic battles,
this unchosen life.
(Image from personal collection)
Category: photography
Bald Eagle
I am in awe of the eagles who have made our neighbourhood home. Â To see them up close is such a blessing.
For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day, and for RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: pure/ serene.)
Canada Goose
Imitate Nature,
the guru said,
observe and learn.
Geese, I notice,
are loud, messy,
and communal.
Move slowly
without shame,
protest likewise.
Not sure I aspire
to goose-like behavior,
but balance would be good.
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.)
The Glimpse
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…
Harmonic Convergence
Be as trees, reaching
canopy of harmony,
gratitude implied.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: Â gratitude / harmony. Â Photo from personal collection.)
Oh, Seasons
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.
Heron Reflection
Silent as the Great Blue,
Autumn hues creep
shifting the landscape
altering my mood.
Do feathers quiver
at the ensuing chill,
or is it merely human
this seasonal affect?
(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day)
Unbearable
Said his name was Orion,
“light of Heaven” –
starry-eyed, I succumbed
godlike presence, I believed,
could walk on water –
but his light fast flickered
squelched by insatiable ego,
only thing he walked on
was me…
Little Bear.
(Tuesdays, I share a poem from Twitter @Vjknutson. )
River’s Draw
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.
Cedar Waxwing
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.)
