Tag Archives: summer

0500, kookaburras and roosters

I cannot sleep with the window closed anymore.
I am stifled,
drowning in the bathwater-warm,
human-scented air.
Open,
all night a cool breeze drifts gently through the room,
carrying the melancholy sighs of a thousand eucalypts.
But before the sky even begins to lighten
to the silvered-grey hues of the brittlegums,
the kookaburras hurl their song through the window,
shattering my dreams into disconnected shards,
scattering their laughter
like seed-pearls.
Until the roosters add their shrill dissonance
to the raucously hilarious dawn,
compelling me to close the window.
And wonder
if my hatchet
needs sharpening.

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mum’s hairdressing salon

This is one I wrote shortly before I started keeping a blog, and never got around to posting. It’s not “live”, but I’m linking to dVerse OLN because it is a snippet of life out here, from that burning summer just before covid.

You, put the chair on the porch
You, get the big scissors
Okay, who’s first…
Oh come on…

Right, you! Sit!
(snip snip snip)
light brown hair drifts down
XXXXXXXXXXOw!
You’re fine, stop complaining –
anyway, that’s what happens when you fidget.
You – go get a bandaid! Continue reading

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wisteria pods

With a mouse-trap snap
a wisteria pod splits
spraying bullet seed

 

I was pottering in the garden today and mulching around some wisteria that I grew from collected seed last year. It reminded me of this haiku I wrote last winter.  I had left the wisteria pods on a window sill in a plastic bag, and then forgotten about them. A few weeks later I was startled by sudden bangs and snaps, and found the splitting pods had shredded the bag and sent the seeds across the room!  

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silent relic II

For the dVerse “midsummer live” prompt:

A silent relic
recalls bright midsummer songs
through winter darkness.

 

Not live, but rushed to you only a few hours later.   😀
Looking forward to the return of dVerse after your summer break!

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blessedly silent relic

A ha’sonnet for Stephen, and his infernal cicadas  😀 

 

Cicada case,
still clinging tight,
through summer days,
through longest night –
you outlasted
noisy bastard
that flew from you.

 

There’s a cicada case on a tree in my chicken coop. It was a lucky insect to make it above chicken height and escape, and I guess it’s left-over case has some of that tenacity.

 

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remembering summer

I remember heat,
day after day, relentless.
I remember the air,
thick with smoke and fear, Continue reading

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elementals III: ray

A dark shadow flies towards me –
too fast, too much intent
for another clump of seaweed.

Passing close, the ray pays me no heed,
as it soars below, rippling as it sweeps past. Continue reading

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what’ll we do?

What’ll we do
when the dam is dry
and the sheep stand by
and they look at me,
and they look at you?
What’ll we do? Continue reading

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hatsu hana, sakura and osozakura

For the dVerse Haibun Monday prompt: Cherry Blossoms

Every day I drive past a field on the edge of the village. A view of it opens suddenly between rows of tall trees, and I have to look quickly to catch a glimpse of it as I turn onto the bridge into the village. Today this field is darkened by the autumn rains to mud-brown, and even the sheep, knee-deep in mud, are mucky grey-brown.
But in my mind, it is emerald green with fresh spring growth, dotted with white sheep. It is sweet summer deep-gold with ripe grain and pale-gold with dry straw. It is drought-dry hard summer ochre, with willy-willies swirling columns of dust among the thirsty sheep. It is autumn grey. It is glittering white with winter frost. In a single glimpse it is all of these, all at once, each a vivid transparency overlaid on today’s precious glimpse.
I blink, and the field is behind me and I am slowing to enter the village, where the houses and a line of decorative street-trees begins, the last yellowed leaves falling from their bare branches…

I see blossoms foam,
leaf buds forming, un-furling,
on bare black branches.

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crayons

For the d’Verse Haibun Monday prompt “Walk with me down memory lane”, but instead of a walk, I took a drive down memory lane. Continue reading

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