It’s nice to say nothing
It’s nice to talk expansively
It’s nice to hunch forward and stare at something intently.
It’s nice to walk slowly
It’s nice to run fast enough to create your own breeze
It’s nice to know the difference between squirrel chitters and bird calls.
It’s nice to love gently
It’s nice to love passionately
It’s nice to have a dog sit on your foot as you pet its head.
poem
Back for a challenge
The form below is called a Renga. The breaks show the different line requirements and syllable counts. More info can be found at tankatuesday.com.
Contrast the hint of
flowers with the attack of
weeds. Balance of Spring.
Hints of summer in sunlight
humidity, light and heat.
Then cool like the fall.
Leaves hush instead of rustle,
No hint of winter
Once bare trees are blossoming
Nature's first green is golden.
Eclipse in a Dish
I failed to get us eclipse glasses. Honestly I didn’t even think about it. We were so caught up in Uconn’s championship run and celebrating our birthdays that it didn’t occur to me to pick up glasses.
I had a solution. Years ago, I was washing dishes during a partial eclipse, and I saw the reflection of the sun in the water. Realizing I could watch the reflection safely, I filled a small dish with water and placed it on the garden window. I was able to “watch” it indirectly. One cool effect is that the depth of water means a layered image: the top image is nearly too bright to look at, but the refracted ones are like shadows, and give a really good sense of the shape of the sun as it is obscured.
This picture is as close as I could get to capturing the effect. The reflection allowed us to enjoy the partial eclipse here, but I’m sure didn’t compare to the total with appropriate lenses.
Here’s the poem I wrote years ago when I discovered this eclipse watching cheat code:
I watch the eclipse
In a dish
In the garden window.
Even reflected
The light stings my eyes.
The water is still,
Deep enough
To give shape to the sun.
I tap the rim and the water tilts
Tipping side to side.
The sun in a cradle
Rocking, rippling, warped.
Earth
…then I think
you’re married to the sky
the perfect marriage
each makes the other better
sky by framing you
earth by underlining sky
Leap Day
Yesterday was leap day. I spent it taking care of my wife, who is recovering from a hip replacement. Her situation reminds me of the transition from Winter to Spring. Winter would be her painful determination to keep going despite the physical obstacles she was facing. Spring has just begun: the healing and slow emergence into pain free movement after surgery.
Sit still on leap day
And heal like the quiet earth
Growth comes again soon
Frost Heaves
Weather changes the most familiar paths:
Snow buries landmark stones.
Deep puddles block the trail
From boots and paws.
Fallen trees bar the way.
Today the ground
Crumbles under my step
And my foot is suspended
Above the cracking path
I’m surprised,
But it’s not the first time
I've stepped on a frost heave.
For a moment I enjoy
Pretending that the Earth is giving way,
Opening
And I will fall through
And fall
And fall
Into an unimagined abyss.
My eyes open.
I'm standing on the trail
My right foot is crooked,
But cupped by the sustaining earth.
Eyeing the ground.
I seek out more frost heaves,
Step on them lightly
To feel the crust breaking
Reliving the perilous moment
When everything below fell away.
Early Spring Haiku
Not really feeling like spring today in Southern New England! Pretty good sized snowstorm passing through. But I liked the image that these kigo words gave me: Shallow Spring, bush warblers and returning cold.
I tried to work today’s weather in, but it couldn’t happen. The image I chose is one that I have been noticing for several weeks: flocks of small birds in bushes by the trail. They’re a fun and refreshing sight.
Shallow Spring invites
bush warblers; returning cold
can't diminish songs.
Thanks as always to #tankatuesday
A challenge from nature and poetry
I love a challenge but this one was initially daunting. At tankatuesday, we were given a mission to write a bussokusekika, a Japanese form that is generally found at a specific Buddhist temple. It was challenging enough to write 3 verses with a 575777 syllable count, but I also wanted to honor its spiritual roots.
Luckily I had just taken a hike that provided an perfect image. Nature being a place of great spirit, I thought that this was fitting.
I stop on the path
That ice has taken over
A giant puddle
That stretches into the woods
And covers the trail forward
Ahead thin ice blocks the way
These woods are our home.
The right of the path slopes up
Boundary to ice
Water cannot puddle there.
I gaze through tangled branches
I look for a way through trees
Anna cracks through ice
She shakes a wet paw and turns
Following my steps
I find a path through branches
A way through brush sticks and stones
A soft trail through leaves and loam.
Deep Winter Haiku
My haiku for this challenge uses the Kigo words “evergreens” and “bare trees”. I find myself enraptured by what is revealed by the bareness of winter. I especially love how the contour of hills is shown because we can see through the trees. I am caught by the jagged, long peaks that are exposed in this season.
Snow reveals all things:
Burdened evergreens bending
Bare trees branches weave.
Clear and Cold Kigo Haiku
For this challenge I used the Kigo list to almost entirely create my poem.
The sharpness of the stars is one of the joys of the season; the quality of darkness intensified by the contrast with pinpoint light.
Bright clear winter moon
Shining with cold and clear stars
Cold and clear frost gleams
As always I enjoy responding to tankstuesday challenges.
Mark Bozeman 