Seasons

Seasons

He saunters with his dog along the woodsy trail blanketed with crisp brown leaves and pine cones. Some trees have green leaves yet, though many more are shades of yellow, red, or brown. Leaves drift to the ground as he walks beneath the rustling limbs. He hasn't seen a robin in a few weeks now. Could it be they have already gone? How could he not have noticed the last one? His dog barks, wishing for a chase, as a squirrel scampers ahead on the path. Nuts need to be gathered, and there is so little time. He empathizes with the squirrel.

Life changes quickly
so much is predictable
everything cycles.

His little dog tugs at the leash, urging him to walk faster. But he feels himself slowing, his mind reflecting back to spring when the world was beginning to green, when the crunchy leaves now under his feet were new. Then there was hope, rebirth, robins, sun. Warmer each day. It seems an epoch ago. Things were different. She was alive then. Still. He did not know what summer would bring. No one knows what each season will bring. The little dog does not understand his slowness. The little dog did not understand death, but does understand missing. The man understands both. And he understands seasons deeper than he wants to.

The wind blows stronger
more leaves flutter to the ground
soon trees will be bare.


A Haibun for Poets United Poetry Pantry.  I wrote this back in 2011.  It received few comments then, and most of those people are no longer around the blogosphere.  Truthfully, I really like this Haibun a lot & find it very timely.

I Find a Way to Rise

Tulip & Basil

I Find a Way to Rise

I find a way to rise above
in order to thrive
I focus my attention
on what I can control
attend to positives on Facebook
let a lot of negatives go

If you want to find me now
I post pictures of dogs
more rewarding less stress
I find a way to smile
see the sun in the sky
I find a way to rise above.

This is posted for Sumana's Midweek Motif: Rising Above.   Hope you all are finding a way to 'rise above.'

Autumn

Autumn (a haibun)

It seems strange to me to think that we are in autumn.  Wasn't it only yesterday that it turned to spring?  I remember when my grandchildren were born, and now one of them is taller than me. Springs turn to summers turn to autumns.  My car was once new, and now it is ten years old. Soon it will be winter.  My oldest dog who was a sweet puppy is now greying and spends way too much time sleeping.  Seasons change. We change.  The world around us changes.  I change in subtle ways I do not like to acknowledge.  Beginnings eventually have their endings.  We are born, we live, and we die.  The leaves on the trees are turning color now.  We are in the autumn of life.  Winter is not far behind.

I still dream of spring
though I enjoy fall  colors
red and yellow bliss.

This haibun is written for Poetry Pantry

Where is Peace?

source

Where is Peace?

Where is peace
on this International Day of Peace
I fear it is but an illusion
a hopeful dream
worse    a cruel joke

where is peace
how can we not be cynical
when a 'leader' threatens
to destroy an entire country
and wants to view a military parade

Where is peace
as hurricanes rage
earthquakes devastate
and fires roar --
if only peace had such power

Where is peace
do we wait in vain
are our prayers for nothing
do you hear the boots marching
are our tears in vain?

For Susan's Midweek Motif - Peace.
Tomorrow is International Day of Peace

Powerless

Powerless

Powerless to act
resigned I feel I numb
are there good people left
who can turn it all around
or has it gone too far

I wonder about the future
it spins beyond my control
I can do nothing
to quell my fear
I wring my hands and wait

dark money abounds
fake news  and lies
fascists scheme and plot
I cry for our country
powerless to act.

For Poetry Pantry

Reunion

Reunion

A reunion won't happen
almost as if I never knew you
doesn't matter any more
I have moved on
I don't think of you
I didn't really know you
you are a stranger to me
almost as if I never knew you
a reunion won't happen.

This was written for Susan's Midweek Motif - Reunion.

Autumn Rain

Autumn Rain

Rainy autumn days deplete me
as I contemplate transition.
Summer, fall,
                 soon winter.

Time appears to race doubletime
green leaves turn orange, red,
dull brown,
               before limbs bare.

Ahead I face desolation, hibernation.
My weary yawns bore even me, as
active summer-fall body grinds,
               slows to winter's crawl.

Rain pelts down, snow to follow.
Ice bound world looms on the horizon.
Cycle repeats, nothing new,
               but each year harder.


For Poets United Poetry Pantry

Memories

Memories

They visit when I least expect them
vivid snippets of the past
sometimes they make me smile
make me think of good times had
sometimes they make me sad
and think of people who passed
they visit when I least expect them
vivid snippets of the past.

They visit when I least expect them
vivid snippets of the past
sometimes they awaken me during sleep
or appear as I drive past a familiar sight
they make me smile or make me frown
force me to review life's highs or lows
technicolor or black and white
they visit when I least expect them
vivid snippets of the past.

Written for Sumana's prompt - Memories -
for Midweek Motif

I Am

By U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Department of Homeland Security) 

I Am

I am in every city, every state
I am your neighbor, the one behind you at the check out
I am trying on jeans next to you in the dressing room
I am the one sitting beside you on the bus
I live in fear

I am old, I am young, I am middle aged
I work, I am unemployed, I am trying to find a job
I want a future, I keep trying, I will not give up
I dream

I am a student, a mother, a father, a worker
I speak another language
I speak English.
I speak two languages
I am saving money for a better tomorrow
I must be silent

I pick your vegetables, I cook your food,
I clean your office, your hotel room, your home
I shovel your snow, I landscape your lawn
I work long hours, then work more.
I pay taxes
I receive no benefits
I live in fear

I cannot drive a car
I cannot get a social security number
I cannot get a scholarship to college
I cannot get financial aid
I dream

I cannot tell you about me
I must be silent
I live in fear
I dream

I am undocumented.


There are said to be 11.5 million undocumented residents in the United States.
If you have time, watch even a little bit of this 6 minute video about undocumented students.  I guarantee it will move you.






I wrote the above poem in January, 2016.   Undoubtedly some of you have seen it.  I share it again today in the Pantry - as on Tuesday the president who shall not be named is going to announce his decision on the DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) young people in this country.  There are 800,000 young people sweating out this weekend not knowing whether they will be sent back to Mexico after this weekend.  Some are in college.  Some have jobs.  All have families.  They came to this country as children and have been protected by a program President Obama put into place.  Now on Tuesday the country waits.  I fear the worse, frankly.  He has not proved himself to be caring about people.  However, even Paul Ryan is suggesting that this program not be brutally ended. (News article) Tuesday we will all know.  Do you think he will get rid of DACA and send them back?  I do.

I am submitting this still-timely poem to Poets United Poetry Pantry.