April Moon
Yesterday I forgot my personal laptop on my desk at my office. I'd had it with me while taking Mom to her labwork and forgot to drop it off at the house when I took Mom home. Yes, I could have borrowed one of CK's laptops or I could have typed something up on my tablet, but instead I just wrote down a haiku inspired by the gorgeous April full moon.
Not sure why there aren't moon-viewing gatherings in the spring, perhaps the weather is less likely to be lovely as it is in autumn. Our new deck is perfect for watching the moon rise and track across the sky. Clearly an autumn party will need to be planned for.
The text of the haiku, if it is too hard to read the tiny picture of it:
Bunny hopping up.
Golden Spring moonrise above.
I gaze in delight.
Flurry of Change
Even as
New flowers turn
Bright, petal faces
Toward the sun
Seeds are falling
Along with the
Faded cherry blossoms.
A kind of flurry
Of change that
Flutters by me
As I stroll past.
Star Flowers
White blossoms like stars
Sing, "Come, let us welcome Spring!"
As I stroll past them.
Mourning
Here we gather,
Clutching our
Memories as
Close as we
Grip a handkerchief
Tight in our fingers.
Breath, coming in sighs
Or held tightly in
Until the whole
Body aches with effort.
We come together
To say goodbye.
Grieving, we share
Eulogies,
Poems,
Song,
Laughter,
Although those small
Laughs feel
Brittle.
You are missed.
We know that you
Were unable to feel
This truth in life,
But let our grief
Become the fire
That speeds you
Along to
A new
Beginning.
Spring Surprises
Each day in our new home brings a lot of surprises. Finding out what color the camellias are (several: red, white, pink, variegated), waiting to see what colors the rhododendrons will be (white and red, so far), confirming azaleas (purple, white, and perhaps a gold one). Plus small surprises, including this single clump of ruffled tulips all alone.
Tulips unfurling.
Green edges turning to red.
Ruffled Spring surprises.
We Stumble Forward
What remains is this:
Actions, words, and our memories.
We stumble forward.
The Flowers Don’t Care
The flowers don't care.
Without noticing my grief
They reach for the sun.