remnants of autumn bending
landscapes into dreams
beneath winter’s frost
ancient stonesongs murmur
from seed to spring
haiku and gogyohka from the Oracle
one set of boot tracks
grey clouds mingle with absence
paths left untrodden
For a long time I started each month with a collage grid and a haiku. This month, having done a grey February mandala (perhaps next month a grid), I decided to take up Frank Tassone’s challenge to honor poet Rachel Sutcliffe by writing haiku inspired by her words.
his death day
in graveyard shadows
voices now lost to the wind
crows calling grey skies
Hopefully the grey will clear out before February’s end…
My skull is clouded, mute. My eyes can’t penetrate the storm of fog. I wake at night with brain burning–not red fire, but an uncomfortably warm, rough, choking smoke. There seems to be no ending; the black and white video merges into exaggerations of grey. All maneuvers lead back into themselves. I am ill with unease.
Trees stand leafless, calm.
Earth is soaked in melting snow–
awash in waiting.
The Collage Box Oracle was insistent–I kept finding words I’d dropped on the floor…
How to render silence? I thought of records, LPs, the different tracks, the spaces between. That line that both separated and connected. Lost now to the digital world of playlists.
For dVerse, a sighting of silence.
Let there be winter–
wild sound, indefinable–
adorn birth with stars.
“…till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.”
–W.B. Yeats, from ‘To some I have talked with by the fire’
Once again I dipped into Jane Dougherty’s Month of Yeats for some inspiration. The Oracle seems to have caught a mood circling around the earth which is definitely Yeatsian.
Above is the view out back last night, which also somehow feels right for the Oracle’s (and Yeat’s) words…
bird wings like
cloudlight caught between
frost and wind
covering winter with paths
which grow cold shining
silences of white–
stillness digs deeper, rooted,
Sue Vincent’s photo prompt this week, above, echoed perfectly the image I was working on for winter. It’s not winter weather here yet, but experience tells me its arrival can be sudden and swift. And the trees always do look magical when they are wearing snow.
Also linking to Open Link Night on dVerse.
Some creative person (not me) constructed these runes of snow in a nearby park. Everyone around here is talking about Florida right now but there is beauty to be found this winter. And underneath the crust of snow things are stirring and spring will come.