Looking for Passion

A day
Pause and stay
Love satisfy
And passions’ needs obey
In truth’s highest form glorify
Our bare limbs, hearts and souls we unify
From base want to heaven’s door love elevate
Your trembling lips love for me verify
Hands grasp, from lips escape a sigh
Tangled together lay
Gaze eye to eye
Do not stray

In my ceramics class is a woman of a certain age who was railing against marriage, men, the patriarchy, male privilege, and life in general. I’m a very good listener and so I listened. After about an hour she started to run out of steam. That was when I asked the penetrating question, “Why are you so angry at men?” I sort of expected her to take a deep breath and have renewed vigor in lambasting half the population. Instead she got quiet and looked rather sad. Seems she had just finalized her divorce. And it was messy. She didn’t have any qualms about telling me about all the wrongs her ex-husband had committed. I can only imagine that I’d be bitter too if my marriage was anything like hers. Instead I think I must have hit the powerball lottery with Sparky. Even after nearly 40 years, we are best friends and he still thinks I’m the sexiest woman alive. And the passion is still alive and well!

The above is a Diatelle. This is a syllabic form created by Bradley Vrooman. It consists of 15 lines with a syllable count of: 1/2/3/4/6/8/10/12/10/8/6/4/3/2/1 and a rhyme scheme of: a/b/b/c/b/c/c/a/c/c/b/c/b/b/a. I was a little intimidated by the limited rhyme, using only 3 rhymes but it wasn’t too bad once I figured out my topic.

Looking Toward Summer

The days are getting warmer and the nights are not so chilly either. Our little crabapple tree finally put out its leaves and made a half hearted effort at flowering. The hostas have come up and the leaves are unfurled and are soaking up as much sunshine as possible. Soon they will send up long spears that will hold a multitude of white, lavender, and purple trumpet blooms. But the one thing that signals warm weather here is the chorus of tree frogs.

After the Bradford pear tree was lost, the frogs seemed to abandon our yard. Now that the crabapple is taller, they have slowly returned. My hope this year is that the trilling songs are loud and continue long into the night. I love to fall asleep to their love tunes. When they finally disappear in mid November I feel a kind of dread knowing that the cold is on its way. Although Spring is a favorite time of year and ranks right up there with Autumn, I’m ready for summer. So far we’ve had hot days followed by cooler days. This year summer seems to be reluctant. I want to be able to wear my sandals and all the strappy summer shoes in bright colors. I want to be able to head out without worrying which jacket to take – for wind or rain or cold. Summer is a time of long days and geocaching. It is a time of picnics, fresh fruit right off the trees, and spontaneous field trips with friends.

Looking at My Personal Army

My husband has surprised me. His plan (and he has put into action) is to create a personal crow army. Yes, you read that right. It seems he was reading over my shoulder as I was perusing my FB feed. One of the people who regularly shows up has been making friends with their local crows. I have mentioned that I respect, admire, and love crows on many occasions. So Sparky decided that he wanted to make friends with the local crows. I am amused.

The noon sky turns black
A profusion of feathers
Rough voice proclaims love

So far he has been feeding them. They are starting to recognize that he is putting food out at the same time every day. So they are beginning to gather. The next step is to see if they will approach when he is present. All of this makes me giggle because I’m slightly evil. You see our neighbor in the condo behind us is not a very pleasant woman. She stole my daylilies. She had yelled at me to get my dog in (because he barked twice to be let in) yet her little dog is outside yapping for hours on end. She is just all around unfriendly. So a large number of raucous crows sitting in the trees and hopefully pooping in her fountain is just the kind of passive-aggressive retribution I can condone. Just in case you think my husband is unaware, he had considered the repercussions and gleefully moved forward with his plan!

Snatch up the last crust
Riot, murder, and mayhem
Mischief makers fly

So here are 2 haiku interspersed with this strange journey to make friends with crows and possibly make enemies. That I suppose is the very definition of a haibun (the poems interspersed with prose not the making of enemies)!