What could a birch tree be, except a girl? A young girl, poised on the edge of a dance with her arms wide, and her hair uncurled, loose round her shoulders; and her friends clustered around her, whispering secrets, rustling and murmuring in their pale dresses, telling each other which bird did this, and what the squirrel said. Nobody guesses how much they see, the supple birch trees, that sway as they wait, feeling the notes sung by the robin, played by the breeze – they can’t resist. Even when they’re old they sway like that, to music half-forgotten, melodies half-heard, echoes of rhythm.
This is for Grace at dVerse, who is asking us to use imagery and/or personification. there is, of course, a nod to Robert Frost here, and I’m still wrestling with the sonnet form. The rhymes got pretty slant-y in this one.
She dabbles her fingers in his dreams – leaves silvery smears on every surface – trails his desires behind her, like a fox-tail robe. She smiles the way a cat yawns, unconscious of teeth, no malice, nothing personal, just that need to toy a little.
A quadrille for De at dVerse. Our word is “dabble”
The first sunrise of 2021 was a smear of raspberry pink over a monochrome world that crunched under foot. We discovered a new walk, and that we have made some new friends over the last year. At the top of the hill we looked back over a landscape that we know well, made new and different by a change in perspective. I think that perspective will be the only thing that changes over the next few weeks. Our plans are blown around like so many brown leaves. We’re entering a new lockdown. It’s like we’re not moving, we’re just bobbing up and down, waiting to set sail.
Seven whispers of secrets: seven sisters hiding smiles. Seven stars shine clear tonight, showing us the north. And, yes, seven swans are swimming, and seven spinners spin their threads spanning sky and earth and sea.
Seven x seven x seven – a second Pleiades poem for Laura at dVerse. Just to see, really. This is one of those niggly little forms that gets under your skin.
Belted Orion, striding beyond the edge of the sky, bless us now. We are so small, but some nights we can stretch and bring our finger tips up to brush the lowest stars, the sharp bright stars that touch the tree-tops.
A Pleiades poem for Laura at dVerse – seven lines of seven syllables, all starting with the same letter.
During lockdown, the weather was beautiful. Long midsummer days of blue skies stretching out, full of walking and reading and lazy conversations. The nights were just as wonderful – clear skies sprinkled with stars, sagging under the weight of so many stars.
We decided to stay up late one night to watch a meteor shower. The aquariids, I think. We took the beach blanket out and lay on the lawn, snuggled in sleeping bags and Dryrobes. There was some wriggling, and some giggling, and a bit of complaining, before we all fell silent, and just watched the sky.
We didn’t see many meteors, it has to be said. But we did spend time outside, gazing up at the sky. The more we looked, the more stars we saw – star after star after star – the Milky Way a band of light arching over our house, reaching towards the horizon. We were very quiet.
so many stars
how could we count them?
we could only gaze.
A haibun for Kim at dVerse. Kim wants us to think about the last time we gazed at nature in awe.