The sand on my feet, waves lap at the leg of my pants, the water sometimes warm, sometimes cold. I can walk for miles on the beach and always search for a shell or a rock or some mysterious shape.
The best beach walk is after an all night storm and in the morning there is
calm. If you find your way before dawn there are only a few people. You might be the first to find a sea bean that has travelled all the way from Costa Rica.
water moves on earth
uniting the continents
seeks its own border
Fields of corn and dust as the combine harvester chops down the whole plant, splices the kernel off the ear and spits out the cob leaving the golden harvest. The modern day thrashing has made the work fast with tons of corn in a day. Down the road the ethanol plant will purchase truck loads with jobs for the locals and help to the rural economy.
If the corn is not sold it will be stored in the silos and cribs or fed to pigs who are raised in confinements. Thousands of pigs confined to small pens where their pig shit falls into a pit to be used as fertilizer. Fallow are the fields that beckon the first frost. Fallow are the fields that glow with the first snow.
Winter hardened ground
Frozen against the sharp plow
After harvest time
dVerse prompt on haibun Monday and the first frost
Today I am not flying to Houston but rather I am going to Iowa, the place where I was born. The heartland, the grass plains now in field corn ready to harvest. A simple place where the elms have died out and the Fox have bought back a part of their land and run a casino. I am not flying thru Denver where the airport built on sacred land but rather thru Vegas, the hub of gambling and entertainment, the vision of an eccentric.
My hometown has changed. Where there use to be three grocery stores now there is one. There are still a number of bars that line one street and no shoe store anymore. I remember Buster Brown in the shop window and a number of dress shops. Now there is one. My sister and I walk all day reminiscing childhood, the town’s dramas and a dad who drank too much. There is already too much extravagance in the world. Time to keep it simple.
Seasons move so fast
We are caught in the middle
How to surrender
dVerse prompt haibun Monday and explain why you write the way you do
All day I worked in the garden finding the tasks that would not require repeating until spring. Weeds starting to seed must be pulled. The thought of a thousand more of the same weed ready to sprout up when the rains come keeps me focused long hours. Cut off dead flowers, dead branches, anything brown that use to be green. Set some stones, pour some pebbles, mulch and take a little harvest for supper.
These plants can take the weather. Ice will form on the pond but the lily pads will come back, the cattail too. I find a few casualties from the dry summer but I leave them to find strength in their roots and make a come back. I move pots and garden art, sweep and watch a squirrel run away with a cone from the black pine. The light through the firs and cedars changes as the sun moves low. The color is a vibrant yellow. At dusk the sky turns purple.
only at this time
air makes a palette for fall
paints a new canvas
dVerse prompt to write haibun touching on light coming through the trees
We left from Houston. Travelled fast to Albuquerque through one storm and a little traffic. My daughter drove most of the way but I got the storm. Hard to watch the clouds and drive, watch for a tornado to drop out of the dark sky. She told me not to worry. There would be no tornado today and Albuquerque came into view in the night. Next day we went with her friend to the Petroglyph Monument. We climbed through the rocks and the art chiseled on their surface.
Another storm came out of the Sandia Mountains whose first name was “where the water slides down”.
In the morning we left on old Route 66 and would not stop at Gallop. We ate fry bread in the Navajo Nation, I purchased a flute and heard its song when I walked outside. You can see for a hundred miles at the Painted Desert. Stood on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. Camped at White Horse Lake and it rained all night.
Two nights in Vegas and on to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. We arrived after the storm and ate by the fire that night. They say the Canyon makes its own weather. The next night we camped in Zion and it rained again. The morning was dry and we hiked the Emerald Pools. This land is what the Paiute called “the straight up land”. We had gone over three thousand miles including Zion to Salt Lake City, to Boise before the tire blow out forty miles from Seattle.
Traveling the road
in the long days of summer
dVerse journey haibun
Watch as the moon makes a sliver of the sun. You can almost see it move. It put a blind spot on the surface. Solar experience. Totality somewhere. But you would not travel to the path of totality. You who doesn’t like lines, traffic or the hype. Now totality comes in another place and you are content with just a sliver of the moment.
So it never got dark, it never made that perfect circle of promised intervention or made the stars shine in the day. And now a half disc lowers itself towards the east horizon and I watch and wait for the glorious totality of the sun.
Can this be random
When heavens and earth align
Or a great design?
Smoke filled the valley coming into Idaho. Where there were mountains now you could not see mountains and dusk came early from the thick haze. Bring some rain we pleaded in a circle dance, dancing all night while the flames shot forty feet into the dark sky.
Who can save us from this char-filled air, breathing in the remnants of fire hundreds of miles away over the Canadian border? Last night it stormed all night in Zion.
Lightning strikes the earth
Twenty fires in Idaho
The state is burning
dVerse prompt on the imperfect