In the green gloom of mizzle, the red of spindle berries flashes a feast—hips, haws and dainty fairy lights dance enticing the birds, butcher’s broom berries and bryony bright, but not for you or I.
Berries light the hedge
glow warm as last year’s sundrops—
In the gloom
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.
This extreme haibun erased is for the dverse prompt.
The silence that never falls is all around—the sound of damp air between dripping raindrops, the intake of birdbreath when a run of notes is ended, and the run of words that never falters, never stumbles in the ghost voice in my head.
On the cusp
of the rose petal
a single note rings.
the sound of raindrops
on the rose petal
This extreme haibun (55 words) is for the dverse prompt, long spring day.
Sun, hothouse orange, lowering to the tree line, shines directly into the west windows, shines through the open inner doors, floods the kitchen and beyond. We sit at the window, lapped by golden meadow and eat supper with soft spring sun in our plates.
Light stretches the length
of a tender-budded branch
spring fire ignited.
An extreme haibun (less than 55 words) for the NaPoWriMo prompt.
Here is green, stalk and leaf, the bright splash of flower heads, a jay’s blue wing feathers, and layers of sun like honey on a wafer. Here, trees bow, breeze-blown, spreading unfurled flags of many nations, speaking myriad tongues to the water.
Noise is bird-babble,
water trickle where ducks splash,