Some eat raspberries and some wear them in full season like a fashion statement. She chuckles at her sense of humour trying to make fun of her summer hives. So much easier to digest when humour sweetens even the most bitter lemon.
succulent raspberries
sweet and juicy
running down her chin
succulent raspberries
filling her whole being
pink spotted legs
sweet and juicy
crunch of the seeds
stuck between her teeth
running down her chin
with a quick flick of the tongue
good to the last drop
When she thinks of beach, today, memories of long ago walking along a sandy beach in Maine resurfaces. It was dusk…the tide was up, so she, her family and friends could not walk on the wet sand like they did in the afternoon. She was only eleven; he was fifteen. But they were almost the same height. He may have thought she was more mature in “that sense”.
The wind picked up as they stared out onto the ocean; they walked slightly away from the family both quiet in thought, as if they were in different worlds. She was so young and naïve, he was a romantic and a vibrant adolescent. He was so handsome, she remembers, and spoke little English. For some reason, his words in French were so poetic.
high tide waves
impressive yet cold
bare foot in the sand
high tide waves
bold and calculating
startling splash rouses
impressive yet cold
warmth of his hand rubs gently
on innocent hand
bare foot in the sand
watching life go by in the sea
dreaming different tales
She remembers the softness of his the back of hand gently stoking her hand. It felt so natural like holding hands with her sister or her best friend…comforting, endearing. Thinking about this in her tent that night, she wondered if he felt something different than she…after all he was so much older than she. That summer of 1963 where innocence is still a nice safe place to be.
narrowing pathway
finally, my eyes can see
a light within
shadows linger
becoming spiritual guides
path of soul-searching
My Travel Journal, (Troiku) is inspired by Chévrefeuille’s meme, “Basho’s Shadow Diary“. One thing I loved reading Basho, The Complete Haiku, translated by Jane Reichhold, was a dark side I could relate to; I find beauty in the darkness now since so many thoughts form into haiku or verses, lifting the darkness ever so gradually. Somewhat like the darkness is the murkiness of the mud until a lotus surfaces above water.
Humans are such creatures of habit. Well, at least in this part of the country. Weather is the most talked about topic…”It is too cold; it is too humid; Ow, my aching joints!.” As soon as November wraps us with a veil of dark bareness before the snow, we say, I hate winter that is coming. Depression has already set in for more of our Northern Canadians since October. The days are shorter and darkness haunts us. Soon people start chanting, “I can’t wait until it snows. At least it will be brighter.” And before December arrives, we often see snow. Everyone is more or less pleased especially the children and winter enthusiasts.
She has prepared her wardrobe accordingly so the long cold months will, at least, be filled with change and style. Four or five winter coats of different levels of warmth. A few extra pairs of boots add to the list and of course, cleats…a few extra pairs and always one pair in her backpack if the sidewalks are treacherous when she finishes her late night shift.
Then snow overstays its welcome in January and then February and March storms. Spring is around the corner, they say, but we all know that spring arrives when nature decides. That can be the end of March, mid-april or early May for those more North and East of here. All those months waiting for warmer temperatures.
Well, it has been quite warm this past week. On the weekend and yesterday temperatures went up to 32C with high humidity. Oh, she should know. She finally installed her A/C and has emptied 4 litres of water 4 times in 12 hours! Yes, indeed, the humidity is set in the house, the furniture, the clothes. People who struggle with allergies as she does, find it difficult to breathe and headaches and migraines attack the most vulnerable.
It is June 13th and still not quite summer yet another two months of higher temperatures and humidity. Now one would wonder why we complain about two to three months of warmer temperatures when many have whined and wished for warm weather for the past six months! But we hum and ho and whine and talk about the weather, “I was up most of the night because of the heat. I arrived at work drenched due to the heat. The bus is so hot and stinky…and even worse at the end of the day.” And so on and so forth
…
Why not look at the changes and embrace them, she says to herself on her way to work…
On her way to work, she passes by a house with budding flowers and then she stops, takes a few steps back to admire a tree with flowers falling over the white picket fence.
She walked uptown and managed to get to the top of the hill without panting too much. She was quite proud of that fact although she was also wise by pausing now and then. She could feel the muscles pulling at the back of her thighs and knew if she lived here within a few months she certainly would be in better shape. Yes, perhaps she should take the stairs more often going up at work. Starting this week she made a mental note to do this.
The hall was immense and the mood expectant. Hushed chatter all about was the background sound with the occasional exclamations and hugs of recognitions. Everyone was gathering in parties of two’s, five’s or more. It was hard to see who was alone since “loners” smiled at many faces here and there.
The tension was mounting and the hushed sounds became like clattering plates in the kitchen of a cafeteria.
She was in this city for the first time and longed to see her favourite Rock Star. You know the type of music to your ears that moves you? Do you remember your first encounters with “outstanding” and “rocks your socks off”…hmmmm?
A bell sounds and there is complete silence…the musicians are in place, the fans and VIP fans await…
Blessed
with her presence
the crowd fell silent
blessed
the room filled
with her fragrance
With her presence
transcending
a mother’s love
The crowd fell silent
numbed by her radiance
only hearts beating
(C)Tourneol’17-05-27
(Inspired by Amma’s presence at the Seattle public programme)
The ride home last night was a bit annoying. People talked too loudly on the Métro and the bus; the scent of ingested brew permeated the bus and by the time she stood in line to get off, a young man (clueless and tipsy) staggered backwards on her left foot…yes, she was wearing sandals. However, stepping off the bus made it all go away…
Tournesol dans un Jardin 