“Time Flies”

“Time Flies”

Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, January 13th 2016

Write a haibun inspired on the proverb “time flies if you have fun”. And (of course) I have a few restrictions to it. Here they are:

1. start with a haiku and end with a haiku
2. try to place your haibun (and the haiku) in one of the four seasons, you may choose the season yourself
3. your haibun may have a maximum of 250 words, including the haiku


mid summer’s day
children shout and play
laughter ringing

“Time flies when you are having fun.” My memories take me back to my youth and outdoor play with the neighbors.  Summer fun included baseball and badminton, moss pots in the creak, hide and seek and tag, as well as playing in the hose.. Then suddenly I am transported to a different time, that of my own children’s childhood. Playing follow the leader, lawn croquet, reading on the porch swing and taking walks. The summers pass by so quickly. I look in the mirror and see grey hair. Yet summer ever lingers and now it is my grandchildren running across the yard, still playing croquet and catching lightening bugs.  As the light fades,  I sit on the porch swing listening to the last sounds of summer and the creaking swing.

at summer’s end
past and present mingle
time gone to soon




Photo Challenge #64, Pathway


Dry leaves crunch softly underfoot in the crisp autumn air. I walk pulling my damp woolen sweater closely about me. Though the path is so familiar, I stumble in the dawn twilight, fresh tears clinging to my face. I walk the path that we walked so many times before, my hand in yours as you pointed out the morels in spring for me to gather in the apron you lent me. We walked this path gathering woods sorrel leaves, as well as the roots. Here you showed me where to find the wild blueberry, and the difference between the poisonous  and non poisonous plants as you gathered herbs. Early each summers day I would run this path to your house, so I could work along side you in the garden, or sometimes sit and sip lemonade in the shade of your porch and listen to your rocking chair creek back and forth.

When I inquired about your death, I was told you had no family, no one to claim your ashes, and so they sat in a back room, next to your old pickling jar; the one you used to save pennies in for a rainy day. Still a few small coins with in. My college had been your rainy day,  I confess it had been a few years since I last visited. I was off in the world making better choices than my parents had, just like you always wanted me to, just as you always told me I could. And now you were gone. Had I expected you to live forever? No, just expected to always call your cottage home, a place where I was loved despite of who I was or where I’d come from.

You had spent the last ten years in the old folks home,the one for the poor and destitute. Funny, I had never thought of you as poor. You were rich in love and overflowing with kindness. My one love, my adopted grandmother. I stopped by your place on the way into town, but the garden had long since been over grown, nothing to distinguish it from the unkempt yard. And the cottage, what was left of it might fall to a passing storm. Without you it was just another empty place.

I hurry along the path carrying your ashes, heading toward the clearing, the path becoming clearer as the fog slowly lifts and the sun creeps over the ridge. Coming into the meadow just as the sky begins to turn pink. I greet the morning sun and offer up a prayer for you. Then I set you free to dance once more upon these meadows, to mingle with the wild flowers in the spring free to kiss the summer sky and soar with the white sulfa and the checkerspot.  Free to see the leaves in autumn and rest with a blanket of snow in winter. I set you free, as you set me free so many years before, by opening possibilities through love and acceptance.I wipe away my tears and gather your jar to save for another rainy day.



B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond – Triolet

What is a Triolet? 

*  There are two four-line stanzas;
*  Line length and meter are the poet’s choice;
*  Lines 1, 4, and 7 are the same;
*  The rhyming scheme is abaa / abab.

Edmund Dulac. Abysm of Time, n.d. WikiArt.
Down by the seaside I wander
Profuse tears still flowing.
Our parting I still ponder
Down by the seaside I wander.
I stare into the wide blue yonder
My heartache ever growing.
Down by the seaside I wander
our brief affair now showing.


3/5/3/3/7/5 Shadorma

ocean waves
crash upon the beach
my tears fall
at my feet
water swirls, makes me stumble
my sorrow drowning


Heeding Haiku Noise Prompt 

dogs bark abruptly
trucks backup with high pitched beep
cars rumble past
I stretch lazily in bed
drift back to sleep as noise fades


jingling tunes
of every one’s cell phones
even in church
loud personal conversations
I wish I couldn’t overhear

I chose to write tanka about more manmade noises today but if you like nature here’s a link to haiku posts with natures sounds:  onomatopeia or this one on the wren.

Untold Stories

Untold Stories

Heeding Haiku With HA: Untold Stories

My faces are those of hospice patients and family member with Alzheimer’s

your long hair now white
I sit holding your hand
your words nonsense
yet your smile speaks volumes
a window to your soul


your eyes stare
at things unseen by others
your body hollow
but in your wife’s loving eyes
a lifetime of joys


we sit and laugh
you tell me you love me
then ask my name