Haiku for an ending

Good night, Terry Jones.

Painting by Kerfe.

 

owl moon s

 

dark wind

soft and warm as feathers

an owl calls

Winter winding

Eve

winter winds in shiny worms of water

lapping root and bare black branches

whines in windy window cracks

splits clay pots

seeds and dry leaves scattering

birds still wing

though singing is for spring

sun warming stone and shoots

lizards loiter bees bumble in stray rays

but night falls and fog crawls

draw down the blinds

hope seeps back into black water

on cold earth

struggling to blossom

The secret

A bit of formal rhythm and rhyme for the dverse prompt this evening.

Photo ©John Fielding / A Mountain Hare Leveret / CC BY-SA 2.0

A_Mountain_Hare_Leveret_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1263133

There is a tree where apples grow,

And in the bank a spring;

There is a wall where roses blow,

A hedge where blackbirds sing.

 

A secret in the tall grass lies,

So still you’d not look there,

To see the soft brown anxious eyes

Of spring’s first newborn hare.

 

a poem is

 

a poem is

a piece of starlight

a beam of moon

ray of sun

a summer seed folded

in tissue paper with fennel scent

and honeysuckle

the unfolding is

a piece of starlight

moonbeam

falling into the open arms

of a sunlit meadow.