For this evening’s dverse prompt, Kim has asked to write a poem with verbs as the dynamic. Here is a haibun, even if I’m not sure I’ve got it right…
We stand high on the hill beneath the sky, watching the valley fall away into darkness. Night climbs from the darkling east, ravelling up the turquoise to seep into the path of the dying sun. Trees, hedgehog-spiked, hide the quiet life uncurling with the dusk, gathering their shadowy skirts swirling about with river mist rising.
We move closer, battered by the silence, and in the hush, the voices of night things pipe-skirl and call their hollow cries from beyond the world we daytime creatures know. Mist creeps, a pale ghost, from the unseen river, rampant, a prehistoric force. Stars point and flicker uncertainly in the vastness above and bats whistle whish after insects. We hurry, pebbles crunching beneath our feet, to make sure the house, squat and indomitable, still crouches on the shore of the milky lake, feet lapped by river breath, but holding firm to the land, the memory of sun on grass and rabbits white-scut racing through the dew.
Night voices whisper,
fox-throaty or owl yodel,
silent stars look down.