WAITING

A haibun challenge for MLMM

Storm flags are flapping on the harbour as the wind picks up.  On the water some boaties are checking moorings while others have decided to head out to sea hoping to avoid the worst.  Along the seafront shop owners are sandbagging doorways.  Storm shutters are being hastily hammered across windows.  A mother loads her children in the car and heads inland.

sea surge
no-one quite wants
to believe

TRANSITIONS

A haibun on change and transitions for Dverse poets

It was a gypsy life in the Air Force – home was always wherever we hung our hats.  We got used to hanging new curtains, digging new gardens, meeting new neighbours, and the children survived a succession of schools and friendships.  They grew up and left home, and still we travelled on, just on our own this time.

Then for a while we put down roots in a wild and lovely place, built a barn, built a life and a church.  So many good friends, none of them rich or even very famous, all of them special.  The gifted years, treasure beyond treasure stored up as memories.  Until we got older, and the children were too far away, and the distances too great.

This time the wrench of leaving was something we felt, like a tree being pulled from good earth.  Pieces of our hearts left behind among the mountains and sea-spray.  A different transition.

you and I
always moving on
together

BASHO’S DEATH POEM

Answering a challenge to condense three of Basho’s wonderful ku into one.  To see the whole challenge visit the original post

It is unexpectedly cold tonight and I am curled up under two quilts, wondering how I came to be in this unknown place.  The moon is lost among drifting stars that call to me with a strange intensity.

falling sick
in a field of dry grass
autumn wandering

 

 

TIME PASSING

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow penned the lines: ‘Into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary’.  This is true for all of us, and sometimes the darkest days obscure the road ahead.  There are people who seem to get the most sips from that bitter cup of rain, and it is then that we must cling to the promise that the light is waiting, there at the end of the road.

racing clouds
patterns of shadow
and sunlight

WILD IN THE WEST…

One wild night again.  Seems winter has held off for long enough, and now wants to make up for lost time.  Flash after flash of lightning, and thunder sounding as though someone was dropping rocks on the roof.  But it wasn’t rocks on the roof, just torrential rain looking for a way in.  Luckily the repairs to our roof were good…

night riders
the spark of iron
against rock

© Maureen Sudlow