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a long poem using the haiku form |
I the clanging bell -- the blade sharpener a weathered stone the stars no longer speak to us -- the sky a science of vast distances silently clouds are leaving the city the tulips all gone -- at the backdoor I feel forgotten the passing spring stains my loss with solitude II desire -- a shining traffic of thoughts inside the red car traveling with the sun over and over olive green hedgerows border ripe yellow fields the church bolted -- headstones the shimmering heat coming over the hill -- the rolling landscape in rectangular ribbons of food a field all rolled up in large wheels of hay behind the farmhouse -- satellite dish pointing to the Big Dipper late afternoon -- night lurks in the trees on a country road -- the music Patsy Cline III at the dock -- ripples lapping at the silence all day -- a gentle breeze passes its fingers across the water nature -- a remote and distant mood near the shore -- ripples shape smooth colored stones long slender curve -- silver birch on the shoreline blond dry grass -- sweat hot day the diving platform stoic in its silence at the feet of trees the lake is a beautiful tranquil line butterflies -- three specks of cotton on the cliff of the far shore mosquito -- finally abandoning the orange air-mattress after several hours I heard the wind bay shaped by pines and cedars -- fragrant out on the water sailboats -- the wind more demanding more sensuous how quiet -- a crow's squawk disturbs the water boat on its ramp -- water playfully stroking its bottom wash of brilliant clouds -- a fish breaks the dark water morning a light new robe -- a friend arrives hills, Lake of Bays, in a few hours -- dinner day by day what dreams live beneath this lake's surface summer cottage -- a few insects and I enjoying the sunlit water just beneath the surface -- stones veined with amber light a pair of loons unflinching afloat in the wash of a boat in the clear water rocks have the movemnet of ancient fish striking a mosquito -- sadly it is my blook that is spilled lake -- wide page full of beautiful poems how farmiliar the tongue of the water on my toes (to be continued) |
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