Non-Random Fibonacci Curl

The pattern curled as it grew
Much like a fractal form.
We suffered and with joy came through
Sunshine or a storm

In every wave we rode upon,
We chose. We gave and took.
The pattern curled us along
And sometimes we could look.


Written for dVerse Quadrille #23.
Photo: “Tree” by the author

The Clock and the Now

The time labelled ‘past’ had an end
And the future we guess with a trend.
But the present is real
Like a now we can feel
That the clock tries but can’t comprehend.


Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 52: The End.
Photo: “Wiggly Trees and Mellow Lake” by the author

Aurora

I don’t know what Fred was looking at, but the Aurora Borealis shining over the path was holding my attention one evening as we sat on the porch of my cabin. I pointed Fred’s head in the direction of the lights. He didn’t seem interested. He was to get his own dog house, a fancy one, since I had spare lumber. He would also get the required chain to make sure he didn’t chase my neighbor’s sheep when he grew up. I would eventually learn that Fred had as much interest in those sheep as he did in the aurora, but my neighbor’s purebred puppy, Princess, still too young to breed, was on his mind.

How do I know she was on his mind? Well, I don’t, and I would like to think he was still too young to be thinking about her, but he wasn’t interested in the aurora. He wasn’t interested in those sheep and she was barking in the distance. Civilized people normally introduce their dogs while walking through some nice park, but with my neighbor worrying about his sheep and what Fred might do to Princess, we never introduced them. “You should have that dog neutered,” he once advised. He was right, but I package my mistakes in boxes of reason and wrap them with brightly colored righteousness expecting only joy. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t want someone doing that to me, but I did, eventually, build that dog house and chain Fred. Thinking back on that peaceful evening with the aurora dancing in the sky, I suspect Fred knew everything he needed to know about Princess and she was, at least for the moment, glad I wasn’t going to neuter him.

FLUFFY WHITE FROSTING
CLINGING WET TO LEAFLESS TREES
BERRIES STILL BRIGHT RED


Written for dVerse Haibun Monday. 
Photo: "Covering" by the author
Hear the author read this haibun on SoundCloud.

 

My Goal Is To Find Out Where I’m Going

My goal is to not waste the day.
Doing what, though, I still cannot say.
When the Sun’s bright, I’m cheery,
But at night I get weary.
I’ve walked, but I don’t know which way.


Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 50: Goal
Photo: “Steps and Snow Flakes Falling” by the Author

Looking As If You Are Really There

Metaphors state what is there:
Wild beauty or a scar.
We may only get to know
What we think we are.

You’ll hide behind a metaphor.
I’ll tease you as we race.
We hide. We seek. Let’s finally find
Some answer we can face.


Written for dVerse Quadrille #22: “scar”.
Photo: “Bright Red” by the author

It is Easier to Predict the Past

When markets go up some may say,
“They’ll go up!” feeling proud of the way
They’ve predicted the past
Though the past doesn’t last
And what’s last may not last through the day.


Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 49: Satire.
Photo: “Wiggly Trees and Mellow Lake” by the author

The Path To My Home

I am only inclined to tell this story, before I can no longer speak, because no one I have been rash enough to tell it to so far believes it. Right now, I’ll restrict myself to what is believable and that is simply that a puppy followed my neighbor pushing his way up the long path through the wild grass and tall red osiers that were not beaten down by my narrow, daily footsteps. He looked like a friendly dog although I cannot remember why I agreed to take him in.

His name was Fred. I let him sleep inside my cabin containing a hand pump for water, kerosene lamps for light and a wood stove on the edge of central Maine’s vast forest lands. On his first day Fred tore open the sealed food bag and stuffed himself with dog food until his stomach bloated. When he saw me refill his bowl he knew this was home. Eventually, Fred would earn the title of “bad dog”. I forgave him. I hope he forgave me. However, that gets into the unbelievable part that I’ve promised myself I must tell, but which I cannot tell, just yet, because I am trying to make it clear how cute he looked walking innocently through that tall grass.

WATER FLOWS DOWNHILL
FILLING STREAMS FROM MAPLE GROVES
AUTUMN LOSES WARMTH


Written for dVerse Haibun Monday.  
Photo: "Orderly Entanglement" by the author.
Hear the author read this haibun on SoundCloud.