A Pine Tree Wakes

When I wake from my long dreaming,
I first look up at the sky.
Far above me, magic dances in white clouds.
Mother Oak holds me fast, in her roots.
Poetry is the movement of her leaves.
Far below me, the river sings its longing for the sea.

Rivulets sink toward the secret aqueduct far below,
The dark, watery womb of all life.
Some droplets rise to adorn cloud castles.
Singing waters plunge over falls,
Scenting the embrace of Lake Ontario.
Flocks of starlings bank and turn.

Wildflowers thirst, drink the spray,
And tremble on the cliffs.
The leaves feel the passing of the season,
As the water does not. As I do not.
We are constant, the water and the pine.
I hold fast to my cliff; I sink back into my dreams.

Note: These photographs were taken at Letchworth State Park, where the Genesee River has carved a deep canyon in its headlong rush to join Lake Ontario, the Easternmost Great Lake, that lies between the US and Canada.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

May 5, 2014

Posted under

Flash Fiction, Humor, Photography, Poetry

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64 Comments

Flash Fiction: River Romance

The sun was setting, cherry blossoms perfumed the air, and Esme’s handsome boyfriend, Al, paddled at her side. His fine, green Mallard head feathers looked purple in the waning sunlight. She nibbled on bulrushes.

Nosy daffodils crowded round taking selfies. You’d think it was an award ceremony.

Esme would let nothing lessen the magic of the evening. There on the riverfront, she and Al sipped water laden with tasty seeds. The silvery twilight faded, and fairies flickered like fireflies. Al offered Esme a tasty tuber under the Three Birches. She sighed with pleasure.

Al raised his wings and drummed the water from happiness. Together they swam figures eights, intertwining their wakes, visible ripples of pleasure. Before Esme returned to her family’s nest on the far bank, her beak brushed Al’s farewell. A door had opened in her heart, perhaps Al would pass through one day.

sun sets on longings
solitary triangle of ripples
rushes bend in winds

Note: This is my farewell haibun dedicated to Al, but it’s fictional, so I called it a flash fiction in the title. Al has run the weekly Haibun Thinking prompt, which sadly has ended. I hope you don’t mind me making free with your moniker, Al! I am a bit late with my entry, but I was preparing for and attending a writer’s conference. I have to scale back my blogging in May. I will be rewriting my children’s chapter book. Wish me luck! My plan is to blog in the evenings if I have any energy. 🙂

References:

http://diet.yukozimo.com/what-do-mallard-ducks-eat/
http://www.ask.com/question/what-do-mallard-ducks-eat