Full Moon

An American Sentence – 17 syllables exactly and a complete sentence. Tonight is the full thunder moon or buck moon as is known in Native American Tribes. However it Japan and China, it is the full moon of the hungry ghosts.

 

Full Moon
“The spirits of the dead are all around us, but it is we, the living, that are the true hungry ghosts.” John Dolan

Full moon of the hungry ghosts devour my dreams leaving me lonely, sad.

 

The Couch

For Carrie’s Sunday Muse BlogSpot #64.

The Couch
“We all need somewhere where we feel safe.” Emma Thompson

On the side of the road was a
yellow beatup couch.
It had seen better days.
Whether it had been pushed or
fallen of the back of the truck,
there is sat.
I had been walking since sunup.
I gratefully sat down on it and settled back.
In a few minutes I had gone to sleep.
The first safe sleep I had had in months.
Raindrops and thunder awoke me.
I nestled down further into the welcoming couch.
Safe I slept.
I slept until the couch and I were drenched.

Haibun: Cornfield

A quadrille (44 words sans title plus the word for the day).  Today at dVerse the word is “sun”.

The Cornfield
“A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.” Anne Bronte

The cornrnfield stretched on forever. I walked down the rows letting the leaves stroke my arms, my face. The sun hung in the sky like a trinket on a Christmas tree.
rows of corn
broken by rows of shade
under a summer blue sky

By the Dumpsters

For Susie’s prompt at Real Toads http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/07/bits-of-inspiration-you-write-color.html
She gives us some pictures to color with our words. I picked the picture I did because I volunteer at a Food Bank/Soup Kitchen. We feed a lot of hungry people and children there. This time of year, kids walk to the soup kitchen to get food, lunch. We put more time into worrying about the environment than we do into feeding hungry children.

By the Dumpsters
“One in four kids in the U.S. faces hunger.” Jeff Bridges

she dreams in colors of food –
red ripe tomatoes
and creamy yellow pasta,
salad greens
and yellow cheese
and marbled rye of bread.
she waits for the people to take out their trash.
she hunkers invisible behind the dumpsters.
she closes her eyes
and dreams –
brown of chocolate
pink of peaches –
oranges and juicy red apples
she curls tighter in on herself.
the yellow moons smiles down at her.
she raises her arms and rises to meet it
in the wine colored sky.

 

Rain Walk

For Midweek Motif at Poets United – weather.

Rain Walk
“I am a being of Heaven and Earth, of thunder and lightning, of rain and wind, of the galaxies.” – Eden Ahbez

It is raining.
Coming down hard and beating against my umbrella
like a slew of tiny drummers.
I am on my daily walk.
I walk regardless of the weather –
hot, cold, snow, rain –
it is hot summer and a sudden shower
is drenching me in spite of the umbrella.
Rain steam rises from the road.
It smells wonderful!
The wind is sweeping and throwing the rain against me.
I splash through puddles,
jump over ditches that have become mini-rapids.
I love sudden summer showers.
I love seeing things all washed clean and shiny.
My neighbors are huddled in their houses sipping coffee.
Not me!
I am walking.
Get out of my way!

Summer Fun

For Real Toads, Tuesday platform


Summer Fun

“I am going to keep having fun every day I have left, because there is no other way of life. You just have to decide whether you are a Tigger or an Eeyore.” – Randy Pausch

Picking tomatoes ripe and red,
pulling tender small cucumbers
and yellow squash from my garden.
Sitting on the porch in the cool of the morning
sipping on cafe au lait
and watching the butterflies flit
about the yard and
the zooming dragonflies.
Practicing kendo and judo at the dojo,
going to “work” at the soup kitchen
preparing meals for the hungry
and for meals on wheels.
Laughing with my husband at his silly jokes,
Climbing my tree and reading.
Listening to the cicadas
with their rising and falling wall of sound,
splashing in the creek
and skipping stones,
looking at the moon and stars
circling the sky in their nightly dance,
watching the lightning bugs blink among the bushes.
This is my fun.
Come join me.
I may even let you wash dishes
at the soup kitchen.

Back Home

For Magaly’s Prose Pantry with the theme Away From Home. And under 313 words.  I did under 250 words.

Back Home
“It is a big world, full of things that steal your breath and fill your belly with fire…But where you go when you leave isn’t as important as where you go when you come home.” – Lindsay Eagar, Hour of the Bees

As much as I love adventure and new things, the thing I like best about being away from home is coming home. I love sleeping in my own bed with my toys and cats around me. The familiar sounds of family moving about the house, fixing breakfast, doing laundry, cleaning, talking and laughing, the comfortable smells. I still feel that way. I have travelled the world over and had a hell of a time doing it. Late nights on the Ginza, early mornings riding in Hyde Park letting the horse have its head, sucking up a bowl of stone grounds grits with sun yellow butter in Charleston, sneaking into a restaurant kitchen in Philadelphia and helping wash dishes.   But again, I like returning home the best.

I sit on my back porch with an espresso looking at the bees going to and from their hive. I wonder if they feel the same. A busy day of pollen gathering sometimes miles away. I wonder if they enjoy getting back in their hive and sleeping. The hawks that drift in the sky, butterflies floating, the cicada that burrows up through the dirt to trundle about the ground, his belly tymbals opening up and beating quickly for his would-be mate. Even the sun returns among the stars to sleep.

 

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