hazy heat dances
cello music sings from windows
sunflower bows
Note: This haiku was in response to the Carpe Diem Haiku prompt, Sunflower.
hazy heat dances
cello music sings from windows
sunflower bows
Note: This haiku was in response to the Carpe Diem Haiku prompt, Sunflower.
Pretty moonflower,
Tattered and chewed,
Still you glow sweetly,
Each night renewed.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: I called this flower a moonflower, not because it’s the moonflower morning glory, but because it’s a flower I found glowing at twilight, under the moon. It’s a clematis. I hope my poetic license is up to date. 🙂
Another might have taken the path less traveled,
I walked the path strewn with rose petals.
Perhaps the roses faded, and the petals blew away,
But each step crushed the scent into my fiber.
That day has made all the difference to my life.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References: The path referenced in the first line is from a famous poem I will reprint here, courtesy of The Poetry Foundation, with my own yellow wood.
Note: The poem is dedicated to my hubby, a fine man in every way. I’m also posting it in honor of my hubby’s friend who is marrying tomorrow.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
In the cottage border,
Every year Firewitch dianthus grows.
Green shoots poke through the soil and watch for the
Return of paperwasps and swallows.
Then blooms open, greeting old friends.
Buzzing bees stop by for a chat,
A cup of nectar at their feet.
Sweet William’s cousin, the Firewitch thrives:
Pink stars fallen to earth,
Burning briefly, but brightly.
Crickets dance and fiddle.
Toads emerge from their long sleep.
The hum of summer reaches
Crescendo in the cottage border.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
References: Better Homes and Gardens
Sisters, hearts of joy, click of belonging made,
When together, united and unafraid,
Thoughts blooming,
Possibilities looming,
Memories of sharing and love never fade.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Dedicated to my sister, who was taken away from me far too long ago. I miss her every day. And to all my newer sisters, may our sisterhood forever bloom!!
Here is a poem in honor of the fairies, Flower Bower:
Fragranced wind blows steadily,
Sparkles of magic spin and settle to the meadow.
Fairies dance jigs when the fiddler plays
Under the shady flower bower.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Happy International Fairy Day!!
References: Days of the Year, Punchbowl, Fae and Enchantment Magazine, and The Examiner.
A favorite flower, an offering for hope, for joy…
Go USA!! I’ll be watching the World Cup this evening!
No offense to the Portugese, who have a beautiful country that I long to visit, but my fingers are crossed for the USA!!!
Edit — Argh!! Robbed of a win in the extra time. Why 5 minutes of extra time?!
The sun is blinding hot today, a taste of summer to come in four weeks. In a previous post, Visitor in the Temple Haibun, I wrote about irises that came in the soil of my house. For years they sent up green leaves, but never did they bloom except once.
Two years ago, I moved them from their spot beside the wild forsythia. An iris grows from a fat root that sits shallowly in the soil. Planted too deep, it will never bloom. Once transported, irises can take years to acclimate and rebloom. But taken care of, the root will outlive us all.
patient, enduring
hibernating deeply
blooming when ready
This morning, those iris roots, probably older than me but certainly older than all my children, have bloomed again. Last winter’s severe cold must have given them a taste for summer’s heat. Across the street, my neighbor’s irises also greet the sunshine, proudly and without shyness.
elegant beards drape
velvet walkways invites bees
tomorrow’s blooms wait
Note: This post is dedicated to those who persevere, who ride out the hard times, make homes wherever they are transplanted, and then bloom when the moment is right. You know who you are. 🙂
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note on photographs: The above picture is of the irises that have finally bloomed for me. These below are those from across the street, neighboring monarchs.
Bumblebee, Bumblebee,
What do you see?
Are flowers as big to you as a tree to me?
Are stamens your tightrope?
Is that wet petal like a mountain slope?
Do you dream? What is your hope?
Bumblebee, bumblebee,
I care about you, you see.
Without you, there might be no me.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham