A sliver or two
Dirt under the nails
Feel the dampness after rain
Break the clod of soil
Pluck a weed
Drive the shovel
Apply a handful of fertilizer
Dig up a maiden hair fern or two
Carry it to a new location
Time to write
Poetry
Eulogy for a Chipmunk
I saw you dying in the garden bed
you were not your frisky little self
hurry quick under the deck
cheeks puffed out with bird seed
I called you Chippy when I saw you
childhood joy of seeing a chipmunk
I buried you under the rhododendron
where other pets are now bones
you were my wild one
who came unannounced
wanting food
I was sad when Chippy died
but yesterday I saw three more
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open mike at dVerse
Crime
She told him to go but he demanded to stay
Hardly knew him yet he put hands on her
At first she was eager to get to meet him
Another sunny day in the mid town park
Trees lined the trail they twice had walked
Today was a different sobering event
as he pushed her into concealing brush
laid out on top of her hard and heavy
until the hatpin left her hat
blunged it straight through his back
into his heart and now a crime
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dVerse prompt using 1920s mugshot
Swimming
Because water can suffocate, my mother taught me to swim. She was a swimmer herself, a lifeguard and a good teacher. I learned quickly in a lake where she would stand on the sandy bottom and help me go under. I could see her legs in the murky water. Later she took me to the swimming pool where she made me jump off the diving board into deep water.
I never joined a team. In lessons I was the teacher and the taught. Ended up coaching the swim team and loved to hone the skill of others. To see them build their technique, strength and endurance. To help them love their sport and learn to race to win although sometimes they didn’t. I could swim for miles without regret.
Straight path in water
Don’t forget when you need breath
Eyes on the finish
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dVerse prompt for haibun Monday on a sport
Tanager
Bird that comes to feed
Perches within reach
Finds seed
Yellow tanager
Shocking in color
No brown
What makes it a bright
Beauty in the wood
Distinct
Fresh Egg
song of the fresh egg
just laid in the house of hens
now cook in my pan
Condition of the Soil
I have been away one year short of a decade. There is lots of gardening to do. It is not that a man can’t tend the garden. Yes, men can mow, turn the soil, weed whack, uproot the invasive blackberry, chop up the fallen trees and fill the wood shed. In a little corner plant some vegetables and prune the fruit trees.
My touch calms the plants, brings nourishment and mulch to their roots. Old blooms are removed, dead branches clipped. I tend to little things. See a bug before it eats the whole plant. Build a nursery bed and let seedlings grow. Know the life cycle of a common weed and notice the small wild dogtooth violet and try to cultivate it. Go beyond the obvious and hope he remembers.
force beyond control
found knee deep in the garden
speak of little things
