American lady
butterflies
charm and
delight
every child.
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A Butterfly Charm
American lady
butterflies
charm and
delight
every child.
Continue reading
Tag Archives: summer
Fantasy of Summer
Waves of heat bake golden sand,
splashed by frothy waves. Gulls
and sandpipers dot grassy dunes.
A long, tall drink comes to hand.
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Roses for Noses
My nose misses roses
through long winter days,
but Trader Joe’s knows.
There, summers scents
come in cellophane.
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Pining for Finland
Brown bear, brown bear,
what do you see?
Reindeer herds or
Santa in Rovaniemi?
May to August,
the midnight sun lights Lapland.
Under that luminous sky,
the Sámi teach that all
beings and objects have souls.
Paintings, pottery,
dolls and blankets have stories.
A Sámi kota is a circular tent,
a place for visions and healing.
Brown bear, brown bear,
what do you see?
A Lake Saimaa seal,
cut off from the sea?
Long winer nights are
lit by aurora borealis,
heaven’s fireworks,
the celestial dragon.
If we listen,
what will we hear?
Notes: Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? is a classic children’s book written by Bill Martin, Jr. and illustrated by Eric Carle. I pay homage here to a book my kids love, and I reread so many times it feels part of my DNA.
I’ve seen a rise in visitors from Finland, and I wanted to learn more about it. Finland’s cities of light are dwarfed by its vast wilderness near the arctic circle. In between Sweden and Russia, Finland flies its cross-of-blue flag over lakes, mountains, forests, rocky inlets, migrating birds and northern lights. It’s a place of magic, with trees frozen like trolls, glass igloos and brown bear roaming free.
The painting is a watercolor of mine from twenty years ago, tweaked by iPhoto.
Vibrant all Year – WPC
Connection
Connection,
reconnection,
lines entwined, aligned.
Squirrels use superhighways, and
information zips sideways.
Talk is the tendency when
winter’s in ascendancy.
Messages zing with arctic air.
Yet, summer’s there
in buds drowsing,
a promise of carousing
when summer’s scent
will rise from each branch, bent
from the memory of
winter’s icy love.
Seasons circle and dance,
hypnotic with romance.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Are you finding the magic in the season? It’s harder in the winter doldrums, but keep your spirits up, the days are getting longer already! Cast your eyes on a Scottish stone circle formed from the earth’s oldest rock, and you’ll see winter romance, indeed, thanks to Seonaid at breathofgreenair.
Gray Magic
Tinge of gray
on evergreen,
sparkly spray,
icy and clean,
fairy frost,
silver dance.
Summer’s lost
in hoary trance.
Winter sleep
casts its spell.
Blankets deep,
warm us well.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes:
Cold has tinged New England with silver. It’s the time of year to burrow under blankets or duvet. I hope you’re warm and cozy. My favorite thing to do this time of year is sleep late. What’s yours?
Happy Poetry Friday to all kid litters! Thanks to Tabatha Yeatts for hosting this week at the Opposite of Indifference. Thanks for reminding us that the “opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference.” ~ Elie Wiesel
Purple Sage
fragrant leaves
rough with musky spice
song of summer
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This is a good-bye to my herb garden, which spiced my soups and stews this summer and fall. Pictured are two varieties of purple sage, which are not culinary. I also grow lavender, green sage, thyme, oregano, basil, parsley, tarragon, mint, chives and rosemary. When my herb garden goes dormant for winter, I’ll be waiting for spring. Only the basil and rosemary won’t come back.
Leaves Rain
leaves rain
tree tears spiral and tumble
mourning summer
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Raspberry August
dusty driveway
carts with awnings
rainbow of vegetables
and fruit —
pick your own —
rows of green brambles
leaning on string
spiderwebs glinting
lemony scent of crushed clover
delicate red berries
hidden under leaves
stems sagging low
ruby juice on fingertips
eaten on vanilla bean ice cream
long for more
August
I miss you
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: Thanks to Andy, I’m adding a link to Daily Post — Happy Place. Serendipity is sweet as berries. I’m also adding a link to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by the lovely and talented Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at the Poem Farm.
Sisters Sing Madrigals
young sisters, grow
sing madrigals to summer
dance all the day
turn toward the starlight
chins tucked into dreaming
wayward thistledown
spirals one way then the next
chased by bluejays
more voices join madrigals
sisters betwixt and between
too close, bash heads
dreams shaken by storm wind
madrigals fade
one summer lasts a lifetime
starlight lasts even longer
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is arranged into three tankas. A madrigal is a either a medieval poem or a song without instruments in two or more parts. I like to think madrigals sung by flowers would be both poem and song. May your week be lightened by flower song.
Fairy Dust Haibun
To step amongst giant phlox, rudbeckia and Russian sage is to enter a suburban fairyland, a small oasis surrounded by the desert of houses, concrete and asphalt.
meadow blooms
sharp fragrance intoxicates
fingers sap-sticky
Goldfinches feast on spiky echinacea seeds, while redheaded woodpeckers knock on fence posts. Sparrows dart under eaves. Day lilies bob, and a rabbit emerges from the grassy leaves, smug and plump. The gardener is the majordomo.
crickets stir
hundreds of insects hum
spiders spin
A shady spot provides a view of an apple tree, too young to bear fruit. At its feet, the profusion of jeweled blossoms is blinding. Magic floats past in the sunbeams. Time slows to this one perfect moment.
Fairy dust gilds bees and
sparkles on flower petals.
Dragonflies hover
like hummingbirds,
held aloft by magic
or science
or faith.
Sudden breezes
bring a rainstorm
of fairy dust,
dried to pollen
by the hazy sun,
solar fast.
But even magic
cannot make summer last.
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A haibun is a Japanese form of prose alternating with poetry, often haiku. It’s often a recollection of one’s day, in present tense. A few moments in a garden, and suburbia drops away. These photos and memories are from Bronxville, New York, where I happily helped a friend celebrate his 60th birthday. Bronxville is a village of Westchester County, part of the Tri-State Area that surrounds New York City. People commute to Manhattan in half an hour. Have a magical weekend!
Friendly Fairy Tales 