hope.2
an open window
brings in footsteps, voices, life –
poignant reminders
that pulsing through us, silent
brags the same sweet pulse: I AM
Month: April 2020
{npm: solus 19}
hope.3
in a world on fire
how do firefighters choose
where to send water?
I pray for the world unseen
And assume God knows their job.
{npm: solus 18}
feathered
a passing shadow –
a susurration of wind
borne aloft on wings.
strangers, distant from others
pause, heartened at its passing.
{nps: solus 17}
hope.1
Hope is a thing with
A community to serve
One nonpartisan
And spreading sheltering wings.
A thing with feathers, in flight
{npm: solus 16}
april 16
last year, the sixteenth
would have meant we could exhale –
taxation: complete.
our debt to society
this year means everyone owes
{npm: solus 15}
Noticing a rush to define “after.” After this is over. After we get our lives back. Makes sense; we all are longing for life to go back to “normal,” but normal is part of what placed us here in the first place. Maybe we should change our focus… Maybe we should cease looking for things to go back to “normal” and take this moment as if our metaphorical vehicle is up on blocks? What parts of the engine can we rebuild to make it work better?
(Also, I’ve done a whole half month of haiku… and now it’s on to tankas for the last half, I guess? Seems fair.)
after.1
what makes things normal?
what does it mean to “go back?”
what would it change, if
the direction we chose next
began with a sharp U-turn?
{npm: solus 14}
Since my autoimmune disorder means I haven’t actually left the general area of My House in weeks (wow, six weeks tomorrow…) I’m fascinated by reports of what’s done in places Not My House. Himself texts me pictures of the grocery store – where they greet each shopping cart with a mist of alcohol spray, and anoint every hand with a blob of hand sanitizer. I love that people don’t have the option to skip that – we’re ALL HAVING SAFETY TODAY, THANKS. The name of the store is Safeway, after all…
two carts apart
face-masked clergy share
antiseptic benisons
shopping sacrament
{npm: solus 13}
My Easter gift was a bright orange bud on one of my new plants. I peeked into the unfurling cluster of leaves and saw another emerging stem, and I’m happy. Also, discovered three nasturtium plants and a morning glory struggling up, so all the rain didn’t wash my seeds away, yay. (It’s gopher one, t, like, nine, so clearly, I’m winning.)
addition
it’s the little things –
fragments that make up a world
pebbles in cement
{npm: solus 12}
life again
the green blade rises
elsewhere, dawn streaks bright fingers
ending the long night
{npm: solus 11}
first salvo
stolen victory –
bright leaves, unfurling, vanished
some battles we lose…
(My beautiful plant is gone – thanks, gopher.
“Now, we don’t want to kill him, just discourage him,” the neighbor called over the fence. “We’re pouring Pine Sol down into his hole.” Er, …okay? This certainly will do something, likely to the groundwater, but to the gopher snacking its way through our plants? Not much. However, we have four crows watching the ground closely, and we’ve heard an owl… we figure something will serve justice eventually. Meanwhile, more seeds…)