Wedged between summer and fall
From the peak of what has been
To the plinth of what’s to come
Has fully opened
Now is around time
Summer begins to feel
A little bedraggled
Drought has taken hold of the lawn
The lilies look haggard
Dust hangs thick in the air
Though the crickets don’t seem to care
While I’m sitting here patiently waiting
For the hibiscus to bloom
Glad I didn’t pull the three leafed plants that began spreading along the east side of the house. At first I thought it might be poison ivy but several more weeks growth has revealed a patch of wild strawberries - someday soon a lucky box turtle’s feast.
I ran into our neighbor Alicia today who is the incoming president of our local garden club. She confirmed my suspicion that the cool and damp weather this April has gifted us with extended blooms, from one end of the garden to the other, it's like a florist's cold storage out there, and what's good for the flowers must also be good for the bees, who are already back in business, the hives roaring back to life. Photo by @marrisabridge.
That traps a moment of breath
Nothing more or less
It's taken more than a decade of field work for me to begin appreciating the science that underlies and animates poetry. A haiku starts as a frequency that is transmitted from some small corner of the universe. It's a burst of electromagnetic energy that travels through air just like a radio signal. To the poet it may feel like a little work of wonder if that signal can be received and recorded faithfully, without the slightest slip of the lip or wrist. In any case, the mind of the poet works best in a limited fashion, first as a receiver and then a re-transmitter of the signal, without any need to author or create the truth that resides inside the poem.
Today Marissa told me About the fifth season Wedged between summer and fall A time of transition From the peak of what has been To the pl...