An extreme erased haibun for the dverse ‘cricket’ challenge.
Dusk. The moon and Mars above the trees and the pale silhouettes of hunting owls calling, soft and quavering. White scuts sharp in the lowering light as rabbits flit on silent paws, and the air thrills with summer warmth caught in the crickets’ throb.
How loud the silence
this summer night calls
to the pale stars
and owls flit
caught in the silence;
to the stars.
Most of the orioles have migrated. Just a few left, only singing early in the morning.
Fly south though the sun shines, wise oriole,
and the August heat is fierce,
for the nights will cool,
the wind will change,
and storms buffet the distant sea.
Falcon with the yellow eye
look the other way, don’t see
the young rabbit’s excited leap
from burrow into the bright day world
this tremulous first time.
I started and discarded several poems this morning because I didn’t think I was listening properly. I changed word sets and got this. It’s very enigmatic, and it made me feel sad.
Prisoner of self,
I listen for the words
that will open the secret of love,
breathe joy into this broken steel cage,
give it the wings to fly.
Those thoughtless words
haunt me yet.
Only a fool would desire
a life without you.
Regrets are for the undecided
who walk with one eye forever on the past,
their feet tread unseen flowers,
their eyes miss the stooping falcon.
Door that stands open
to the starry sky
is the one I will gladly pass
with no regrets.