Hopeful Signs

In the morning sun.

A tongue of new green glowing,

Growing in the light.

Forsythia buds 

Swelling green in the window . . .

Clear blue sky outside.

I know, I know -- we've got lots of winter yet to go. But what a pleasure to see these early signs.   

And  in French from Miss Yves--

Bourgeons de forsythia
S'enflant, verts, à la fenêtre
Ciel bleu clair dehors.

Towards Solstice

Black willow reaches,

Longing  for the winter sun
And its cold pale fire.

Time and water freeze;

Stillness lies upon the land, 

Slow, the great wheel turns...

... and in French, courtesy Miss Yves ...

Noir, se tend le saule
Vers le soleil hivernal
Son feu froid et pâle.

Le temps et l'eau gèlent
Le calme s'étend sur terre
Lente, la roue tourne.

Haiku for Change

Change is dancing near.

I beckon it eagerly.

Take a chance on me.

Let the Caged Panda Sing

Pandas eat bamboo

but sometimes other things too.

Bet they make large poo.

When I go to Market Street, either to shop or meet someone for lunch,

I have to puruse the garden/floral department, inside and out.

 

I love their decorations.

One time, I found an angel locked in this very same cage.

And I thought perhaps someone was making a religious or spirtual statement?

Then, this last visit, I found a panda bear in the cage.

hmmm...

what could this mean?

A panda is often a symbol of China...

maybe they're making a political statement on communist China?!

Or maybe this is a sign from one spy to another.

to arrange a meeting...

I don't know.

I let my imagination wander.

and write a few panda haikus.  

Pandas do not fly

despite their best intentions,

no bird cage needed.

Glory of the Morning

Ah! such perfect blooms!

Preening for my camera --

How can I resist?

Green Tide

Green ... the word contains

Myriads and multitudes. . .
Spring's profligate coin.

Chartreuse, emerald,

Sea-green, grass-green, apple-green . . .

I am drunk with green!

Wrapped in blissful greens,

Nature stretches...preens -- I watch,

Rapt in endless greens.

One Tanka, Two Haiku

I removed the second haiku/picture to correct the  spelling and now, drat it, can't make the updated picture post. So I reposted the entire blog -- but am unable to transfer the comments.

But here's the picture . . .  and I'll put the haiku below it.

Aerial assault --

Blur-winged bees descend upon

Fragrant pear blossoms.

Ink Brush Painting

A master artist

Brushed bold black slashes of ink

On rice-paper snow.

Frosting

In dreams, one might walk,
Wading through cool whipped cream clouds,
Toward the rising sun.

"Jack Frost has been here,"

My grandmother would tell me,
Pointing to the ground
Where elegant tracery
Picoteed the still green leaves.

Such fleeting beauty ...
Sun-kissed rime to crystal drops ...
Life is short ... yet still ...

Cloud Mountain

Setting autumn sun
Warms the eastern slopes; roiling
Lavender clouds rise ...

Looming high above
The wall of Blue Ridge Mountains,
Shapeless forms converge ...

For a brief moment,
I thought I saw perfection --
Fujiyama-san.

Haiku for August's End

Early morning fog
Lingers then lifts; Day proceeds,

Blooms fade; Time rolls on.

Morning Reflections

Caught in the door's grid
The morning sun calls to me:
Don't wait, it whispers.

Now is the moment;
Here is the place. Seize the day
Now ~ and go in grace.

Twigs

Runic messages

Scratched into the evening sky --

Springtime's swelling twigs.

I love the look of these twigs. They put me in mind of the eponymous code in the Sherlock Holmes story called "The Adventure of the Dancing Men."

This morning I'm traveling to Columbia, SC for their Book Festival -- big doings with Scott Turow as keynote speaker on Sunday. Unfortunately, I'll miss hearing him as I'll be on my way to Troy, NC for a previous engagement -- a presentation at the library there. And then back home on Monday.

Of course the laptop and Miss Birdie will go with me and I'll hope to get in some rewrite time -- not ever having been one to party hardy, it's no sacrifice to turn in early and take advantage of a quiet hotel room to do some work.

Depending on how well my laptop cooperates with the hotel Wi Fi, I'll post again tomorrow.

A Time Out of Time

Because I have the luxury of not having to leave home for my work, these days between Christmas and New Year's always have an odd, timeless quality to them. And this year, with the temperature unseasonably in the fifties and green things pushing through the not yet decomposed autumn leaves, it's particularly neverwhenish in feeling.

It's a time out of time, a lovely breathing space before the New Year and all those stern resolutions. Time to peruse the books that were my Christmas gifts, to eat another piece of shortbread, to look for pictures outside in this mild weather . . .

. . . and time to write a haiku.


Italian arum -
Nudging up through gray-brown leaves,
Unfurling --Ahh! -- green!