2100 31st December, Mount Pleasant

impatient children
scamper about the hillside
parents sip their drinks
as the light drains from the sky
and the canvas is prepared

good things only #4: unexpected gifts

It’s been a while since I posted one of these, inspired by Sean’s series of “good things only”. And thank you to OM for the wellbeing pack. It was a lovely surprise.  🙂  This time a tanka series. 

 

I morning commute

there in the mirror –
see the falling yellow leaf
dancing gracefully
in a slipstream pirouette
lost already in passing

II rushing between meetings

in the corridor
between meetings she gives me
a wellbeing pack –
I give myself permission
not to overthink this gift.

III walking to school pickup

a wet tennis ball
dropped into my hand by a
stranger’s smiling dog,
waiting to share his joy in
green grass, blue sky, and the chase

one perfect moment (with fish)

Silver fish flashing,
a thousand bright darts rising
in a green-glass wave,
scattering, none touch, but the
wave pats my head in passing.

Three layers, seven colours

A while I ago I posted a rant about rainbows. It was triggered by a comment that science ruins rainbows by taking away the magic. My argument in that post was that science adds to their beauty and magic because it allows you to “see” so much more in them.
A couple of days ago I was walking across a carpark and it had just started raining. And there was a stunning rainbow on the ground:

persimmons

Another late one for dVerse, this time a fruity one inspired by “the way to cut a pomegranate”.

I’m bingeing on persimmons at the moment, while their short end of autumn/beginning of winter season lasts. The way to cut a persimmon, unless you eat the skin, is 4 cuts and then pull it into 8 segments like an orange as shown in the picture of my breakfast. 

Glowing orange with
all the light of autumn caught
and stored as sweetness
beneath that smooth glossy skin –
four cuts for a winter feast.

 

I wrote a tanka because I thought they were native to Japan, but just checked and discovered that they’re actually native to China. Ooops.  

bastion…

…the view from outside.

For the other part of Frank’s double challenge this week: “Democracy”

The neighbours listen
to the screams and banging of
domestic violence
coming from the home of the
self-proclaimed world’s policeman.

The democracy show

The world is watching,
voyeurs, eagerly waiting
for episode 2.

hatsuhi

For Frank’s Haikai Challenge #172 (1/3/21): first sun (hatsuhi):

Light pours from the sky,
flooding the land, and rising
to come flowing through
the window, drowning my dreams
in a blaze of light and heat.

 

…and there were lilies: IV. choir

A choir of colour,
they raise their heads and open
their mouths to shout out
a hallelujah chorus
of silent, deafening joy.

…and there were lilies: III. Lady Alice

Lady Alice has recurved or reflexed petals, like the tigers. But is too refined to be in the same tub, and would never admit to being closely related to them. 

Lady Alice bobs
a curtsey to the breeze, and
turns her petals up –
a reflex she cannot help
when embarrassed by the bees.

This series of “…and there were lilies” poems is an epilogue to “jubilate lilium (let there be lilies”). 

…and there were lilies: II. Anastacia

In the same bathtub as the tigers, are some oriental lilies, including Anastacia. Anastacia has a lovely scent, very sweet, and beautiful pink blush and freckles. But she seemed a bit over-awed by the tigers, so I brought her inside for safety. 

So pretty in pink,
Anastacia cowers from
the grinning tigers,
orange against jungle green,
recurving talons readied.