Ancestral circles steeped in lore – symbolism lost, and imminent – Geometric rhythms play with destiny, ascribe fates. (For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See?
(Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge is breath & unite.)
Even as we harvest the fruits of our endeavors, as the leaves of summer give over to golden dreams and light reaches through gathering clouds,
“What happens after death?” she asked one Sunday, her long, thin body, stretched weakly across the settee, her cousin, balancing his dinner plate at her feet. Sundays they
Our roots are spreading, the umbrella of our tree broadening – Muslims now amongst our beloveds a progression, nurtured by a Divine plan – trees
Mother to a child – barely able to tie shoes watching, listening, ever-present through fields, trees, at water’s edge provided shelter, grounding – whispered cautions