Dragonfly !

Weeding at
 six forty-five
A.M. and already
I am perspiring.
Little rivers tickle down my back and face, mixing with the citronella I
bathed in,  before venturing into mosquito territory.  There is a sparrow
singing
in the cherry tree, serenading  early risers.  I sweat and remind
myself that  all this bending will keep me young, allegedly. I spot
a dragonfly
on the bee balm
right next to my leg.
Breath skips out
of me.  Now
he flies,
spins,
thin
as a
whis
per,
land
ing
on a
shoe,
resting
from
what
ever it
is a
dra
gon
fly
d
o
e
s
!

 

Published 7/14 –  Bards Annual 2014 – a Poetry Anthology 

Haibun

Planting seeds in the spring requires an enormous leap of faith.  For the farmer who plants many acres or the gardener with a tiny vegetable patch, the distance from that early spring day to  harvest is often measured in the number of  bug battles, the hours of prayer for good weather, the pounds of weeds ripped from the soil and of course, months of back-breaking labor.  The seed embraces the soil, the sun and the water in a magical dance of life.  The wise farmer knows that he participated in this miracle too!

**

ripe tomato –

slicing up the sun’s warmth

for lunch

**

                                                                                                                                                                      

    ©2013 Wabi Sabi

For Carpe Diem ‘ magic fields’

For Haiku Heights ‘fresh’