Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Tanka Prose

Singing Pines

In the center of the quiet road, a small tangle of thin cable, barely visible against the tarry surface. I determine that it's a pair of earbuds, one badly cracked, partially flattened. Who would have worn these? Who would have needed them when the sounds of nature—these woods, this sky—are all around? I resume my brisk pace, dismissing my own questions.

Moments later, the world opens up, flings itself at me with whistles, warbles, caws, chatter. With flapping sounds, scampers, whish-whooshes, crackles, and thuds, from the forest floor to the tops of the tallest pines. Everything amplified. I find music even in the human-made: distant buzzes and hums of lawn equipment, the repetitive clanking of construction a mile or so away. From then on, each time I walk along that stretch of road, the same magic, the same amplification. Days pass, weeks pass; remarkably, the earbuds stray only a foot or two from their original location.

the rattle
of threadbare branches
into an aria
of unfurling leaves

as if someone
suddenly cranked up
the bass . . .
from a pond's reedy edge
the breeding calls of bullfrogs

My husband joins me on today's walk. This time, when I see the little puddle of cable, I make an impromptu decision—to gently kick it off to the edge of the asphalt, out of the way. I notice that the damaged bud is finally missing altogether. But as we pass by again, on our second lap, I recall that a crew will soon be out to mow down the tall, wild grasses. I kick the former listening device back, ever so slightly, into the road. My husband appears baffled by my behavior, why I would want to protect such a battered, useless thing. He doesn't seem to realize that, when it comes to certain matters of importance, I need reminders.


Contemporary HaibunJuly 2017, vol 13 no 2

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

A change

a change
in the mood of the day—
along the roadside,
seedpods in my pocket

red lights, spring 2017


I'm a little late with this post. Bluebonnet season here is roughly mid-March through mid-April. But now, in the worst of the scorching Texas heat, maybe it's nice to think of bluebonnets again?

I'm also slow in updating my blog in general and in visiting other people's blogs, unfortunately: busy with special poetry projects, not always in town, problems with my PC, problems with Blogger. But here I am again, for now!