Poetry ~ Waka
Freestyle dancing
rhythm of the wind
last tango
freestyle dancing
swaying to autumn’s hum
fickle puffs
rhythm of the wind
catch the locomotion
nature’s refrain
last tango
autumn’s last abandon
free and footloose
© Tournesol ’15/11/06
Last Dance Video by Cheryl-Lynn R.’15
Sitting in her living room she gazes out the window at the leaves. This was a bush planted a few years ago that kept climbing to the heavens. Her landlady asked her last fall, if she wished to have it trimmed to get a clearer glimpse through her window. “Oh, no!! please let it reach the roof and beyond if possible. I love the privacy it offers me so I can keep my drapes drawn and have my cloistered view of life outside my little world.”
Her landlady understood being a woman and living alone on the main floor, a busy street, she might benefit with this sweet discretion nature could provide.
The leaves were giggling and dancing like teenagers at a sleepover. Most of the grownups were fast asleep waiting for the next season but not this rebellious bush. She loved to see the life still withstanding the wind and the rain.
free flutter fly
giggling at the wind
children make believe
This morning, the rains and wind had stripped many trees out front. Her favourite tree in front of her patio window, next to her desk where she spent hours wandering in the forest of her mind, was no longer waving with those yellow leaves of last week. Now the branches, skinny and some thick and strong, crooked and curved were waving to her, inviting her to this new part of the season.
“Look at me sway back and forth!! I am still alive just wearing a new suit. I am mature and wise and will be here with you to lean on even in the dead of winter. So don’t cry over spilt leaves. Tomorrow will bring back strong, fragrant and green robes. You will see. Until then, just lean on me, my trunk can weather almost anything and certainly can hold you for the rest of this season and winter too.”
how valiant am I!
timberland’s warden – always,
lean on me
She smiled at this lovely invitation. It felt like a love letter from a strong, steady lover who may not show his colours but is always there if and when she needs to lean on him. Chuckling to herself aloud, her cat twitches an ear and lazily lifts her head one short moment and returns to her feline haven.
Now did she imagine all of this or did she actually hear the tree speak to her? She slips back into her private woodland hearing sylvan whisper des mots d’amour.
each leaf shows off
clinging for dear life
mocking at the tree
© Tournesol ’15
Memories of long ago so vivid, she can taste it. A young girl walks to school in the bitter cold. Crunch crunch, echo from her tiny feet. White smoke comes out her mouth like magic and dewdrops trickle from her eyes clouding her vision.
florets
smaller than springtime buds
sit on eyelashes
looks up open-mouthed
flower tingles her warm tongue
snowflake melts
© Tournesol’15/11/06
The sun is smiling today. There is still an extra hour of bright colours before I am forced to retire to the gloom of old church dorms. I must hurry and not waste time in the narrows of my mind! It is time to capture what my heart might see some day…again. Oh to have lived among the life of such hints, once sparked my life.
The sky is bursting with bright aqua and the sun is so bright it dominates the clouds. Billows smile in her golden glow. Oh how I would love to be there some day and run through the fields with my lover. Hand in hand skipping like youngsters again. Oh, to be young again and soulfully alive.
It is a good harvest, I overheard a farmer say to the cook last week. And yes, I can see the wealth of wheat so much prettier in the fields; blow, blow wind! Run while you still can until we meet again in the grey pit of my breakfast bowl where only milk and brown sugar will turn you into a shade of mud.
feel nature’s pulse
golden wheat waltz
lilt of the wind
© Tournesol ’15
November Haibun #3
THE WALTZING WIND – Michiel Merkies – Piano Solos volume 1
It’s not even three in the afternoon and already the day is ready to close right before my eyes. Sadly, I watch the clouds get darker from my window. Even the cars passing by on the boulevard are louder. I hear a humming that was not there in the summer. I just realized this a few days ago, it is the winter tires that make the traffic sound louder and soon I will be hearing the studded tires crackling along on the pavement too.
As the season gets darker, bleaker, barren and colourless perhaps the sounds seem more acute as well notwithstanding those studded tires of course.
humming lullabies
daylight slowly sinks –
sleep well
© Tournesol ’15
Inspired by these gems written by our host at CDHK “frosted grass”
early morning sunlight
frosted grass around the yurt
puffs of breath
© Chèvrefeuille
hoarfrost on the grass
melts in the early sunlight
life passes
© Chèvrefeuille
rime tipped grass
catching rays of sunshine
co-exist
© Tournesol’15-11-02
Thinks of her mother
leaving this world unknowingly
will she forget too?
© Tournesol ‘15/11/02
Summer come and gone
their love like footprints on sand
forget me not
© Tournesol’15/11/02
cobwebbed stairwells
children playing “dress-up”– shout!
trick or treat!
old lady adjusts her hat
well, now my little pretties!
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie
red door at night
hidden under the stairs
still caught my eye
© Tournesol ’15
late night stroll
life shines through draped windows,
are we there yet?
© Tournesol ’15
On my way home to the Métro from work, I stopped a moment to embrace the quiet of the night and the lovely autumn colours. Then I admired the doors along the way.
