A Walk to the Lake Haibun

Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.
– Thích Nhất Hạnh

I walked today, despite my recent recovery from norovirus and a week of not eating properly. I started off slowly, stretching sluggish muscles. My feet curved into the familiar rhythm, welcoming the soft, spongy aqueduct pathways. I headed for the lake side, wanting sunlight glinting strongly into my eyes after a winter of weak, gray light. I passed many gardens, my eyes yearning for color, a contrast to brown and gray.

Seed pods in Spring

seed pods straining, listening for the song of the wind

The wind did not disappoint, but sang of ocean waves. Seabirds called distantly, crows nearer. Robins quarreled over grasses. A cardinal flashed by, a scarlet blur. The air warmed to the sixties and finally snow seems truly gone. Was it icy only a few weeks ago? The sunlight made me feel alive, inside and out, and I turned upward, smile opening wide. Neither did the gardens disappoint, providing color in miniature.

Yellow Spring Crocuses

saffron crocus
sunlight reincarnated
honey sweet scent

The yellow crocuses stopped me cold, so startled to see gold strewn on the ground, riches to my starved eyes. Most plants were still dormant, buds still tightly furled. Only the crocuses had thrown open the treasure box, spilling nature’s jewels. Words seem pitiful in comparison.

Purple, yellow and white crocuses

tiny crocus trio
blossoms dancing on breezes
music to my soul

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Dovetailed deliciously with the Ligo Haibun Challenge, Quote Week.
Also includes a new form of poem, a monoku, that I cannot tell apart from the American Sentence Haiku.

Trumpets Sounding: American Haiku

IMG_5364

purple trumpets joyfully welcome spring, frantic sunshine music

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This is my second ever American Haiku. I still have a few posts left to make from my warm vacation. Tomorrow we have a snowstorm due. 🙂 The American Haiku or American Sentence form was created by Allen Ginsberg, who brought it away from nature toward our modern, urban lifestyle and left it high and dry on one line, as more similar to the original haiku form, which was not broken into lines. My first is Silent Bathhouse.