Showing posts with label springtime. Show all posts
Showing posts with label springtime. Show all posts

Saturday, March 13, 2021

Saturday Haiku: Dandelions


 winter slips away
with the dandelion flight
in the chill spring air


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Photo courtesy of Pixabay


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Saturday, January 25, 2020

Saturday Haiku: Early Shoots







daffodils rise up
the waters crest in the creek
springtime is calling











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Photo: "Daffodils in January" from Kitchen garden blog: simple tasks for January
at British Wildlife Artist Writer Illustrator



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Saturday, April 27, 2019

Saturday Haiku: Dogwood



dogwood blooms
in the springtime mist
morning wakes




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Photo: Dogwoods in Dothan, Alabama
Credit: Trey Whatley


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Saturday, April 28, 2018

Saturday Haiku: Clear Nights









a bright moon
expanding the heart
with clear nights













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Image: A Mountain Pass: Karachi (1927), from the Eight Fine Views of Japan series
Artist: Hasui Kawase (1883-1957)
Medium: Woodblock print



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Saturday, April 7, 2018

Saturday Haiku: Dogwood





dogwood clouds
on small tiered branches
spring blossoms













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Photo: Flowering Dogwood (Missouri Department of Conservation photo)



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Saturday, February 17, 2018

Saturday Haiku: Early Spring


crocus comes quickly
to herald spring’s bright turning
and looks to the sky





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Photo: Purple Crocus growing in the early spring through snow
Credit:Ekspansio (Getty Images)



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Saturday, March 4, 2017

Saturday Haiku: Rose breasted Grosbeak




the exotic form
of the grosbeak on a limb
sudden springtime view







Hear grosbeak song at https://youtu.be/NixrHvecZ8c



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Photo: Rose breasted grosbeak
Credit: John Harrison (Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Saturday Haiku: Spring Bunting





indigo bunting
hops quietly in springtime
morning eye's delight








Listen to the indigo bunting's song at https://youtu.be/JJTaV95E9Qg

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Photo: Indigo bunting in a meadow
(Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)



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Saturday, April 2, 2016

Saturday Haiku: Days of Gold


sudden days of gold
heavy with springtime promise
hopeful abundance






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Image: Spring Morning (1900)
Artist: John Henry Twatchtman
Medium: Oil on canvas



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Saturday, March 26, 2016

Saturday Haiku: First Sighting





spring sighting –
bee tending flower
heart tending soul








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Photo by Tetra Images (Getty Images)



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Saturday, May 23, 2015

Saturday Haiku: Before the Blossoms






just before blossoms
in the quiet springtime air
the heart awakens 

                       ~ CK
















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Photo: Springtime buds by Malcolm Marler



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Sunday, February 15, 2015

Springtime Teases




Springtime Teases

Springtime teases like a cat
Stretching out a paw
To test the air.
A whirl
A dance
Then she is gone
Slipping back under the ice
Whispering, “Watch and wait.”

                                ~ CK








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Photo by Jennifer Barnard
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


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Saturday, May 10, 2014

Saturday Haiku: Springtime Buds



    warmth of day
    new buds of springtime
    life dances

                           ~ CK











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Photo: Bee on Plum Flower
Credit: Angelynn Ursulo Gill
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


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Saturday, March 15, 2014

Saturday Haiku: The Arrival

  

                 cool morning breeze
              warm sunlight above the crest
              robins dance

                                          ~ CK








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Photo: Morning sun, Cwm Cywarch Low morning sun highlighting features in this field in Cwm Cywarch.
Credit: Philip Halling
This image was taken from the Geograph project collection
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


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Saturday, May 11, 2013

Saturday Haiku: Vernal Offering


My post about writing haiku has become one of my most visited sites, so now I am considering doing more with the genre myself. Today I decided to take an old poem and recast it as a haiku. Here is original poem followed by the haiku:



Vernal Offering

The air is damp from Spring rain
As the cat crouches low
And moves parallel to the ground
Like anxious and hesitant quicksilver.
Eyes are fixed upon a squirrel
Who ambles about
In the yard
Like a self-contained wisp of grey smoke.
Quicksilver is focused and intent,
Grey Smoke is unconsciously playful.
With no apparent knowledge of danger
Grey Smoke spirals up a telephone pole,
Across a wire and into a tree.
There will be no bloodshed today.

3/97

               *    *    *


Cloudy skies in Spring
     Hover while cat stalks squirrel.
     Freedom found in trees.

 

  
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Saturday, February 19, 2011

Suddenly Robins

A beautiful and balmy sunny day today!
Walking outside
There is no need of coat or hat.
The song sparrow’s warble pierces the air.
Earth beckons us to wake from our winter slumber
As she begins to cast off the grayness of winter.
Buds appear on the spirea
And green begins to peep out in patches
Across the yard.
Suddenly robins have appeared.
Joyfully they forage through the grass and leaves
Proclaiming that newness is at hand.
They herald the shift in the world
That welcomes Persephone’s return.


Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Memories of Springtime Past


Here is the telling of one of my early memories of a day when the secret of life opened up to a barely conscious lad.



An Early Time

It was early morning.
There was a mist in the air
And dew on the ground.
The clover aroma of spring
Mingled with the scent of moist earth.

It was early morning
As I stepped out the back door
With sleepy eyes.
I was three years old.

At the edge of the yard
I saw a grand white mule
Standing in the springtime mist –
The largest animal I had ever seen.
Beside the mule
Was a dark-skinned man in denim overalls.
My father stood there with them
His laughter rippled the morning air.

I went running across the yard,
Shoes collecting dew,
Lungs sampling the damp air.
I had to see the great white beast.
He stood tall
Shoulders brimming with power,
Head proudly facing the day,
Subdued grunts and clouds of breath
Spewing from his large nostrils.

It was early morning
As I hastily made my way ahead.
Before I could reach the mythic beast
I heard a shout from behind.
“Stop!” cried my mother.
“That mule might kick you.”

I stopped.
Then I slowly edged forward.
How close would they let me get?
If only I could touch
That white behemoth.

It was early morning
And the rhythmic chore began.
A cadence of sound emerged
From leather straps, metal rings,
Wooden handles, steel plow,
Heavy grunts, and slow steady hoof beats.
All moved together like a ship heading out of dock.
Cutting through the ground,
They left a red clay wake
As man and beast crossed the green clover field.

It was early morning
And an early time
When a three-year-old boy
Took more into his heart
Than he could realize.
He walked into a spring day
Humid with promise –
A powerful beast shrouded in mist,
The heavy earthy aromas,
A father laughing
And a mother warning of danger ahead.



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