Sky is blue
above the placid river,
searching the rushes
for quiet death.
Such a burden to carry
among sleek black plumes,
sheen of sun and river glitter,
and with every slow flap flap
the portents scatter
in the eyes of the wary world.
Ages old, the dark eyes,
bright as jet beads,
have seen the grass grow where forests sprang
and run red with battlefield blood.
Crow tears a strip of carrion,
cleans the river bank of untidy death
and slips sleek as a seal
into the eternal blue sky.
This week’s challenge from Ronovan is a suitably wintry one.
White winter wind calls
cracking ice in his black voice
cruel times to come.
Blackbird sings his song
white swan bends a graceful neck
the whole world enthralled.
White blizzard fury
black branches stripped of gold leaves
green buds wait for spring.
This is a Haiku inspired by the two words of Ronovan’s prompt for this week: Pitch and Time.
Pitch black is the crow
casting night across the sun
time makes an ending.
Red is the rose that perfumes the air
Red is the breast of the bird in the tree
Red is the passion that once we both shared
When you were the moon and the stars to me.
Black was the night with no star left awake
Black was the night of your leaving
Black as the stone that lay on my heart
Were your eyes at the sight of my grieving.
Cold is the fire that burned in my heart
Cold is the winter rain falling
Cold summer’s past, the roses all dead
Like the hope in my lonely voice calling.