The first fireflies

For Kim’s prompt over at Real Toads, Bugs and Insects. I love it!

shizukasa ya
iwa ni shimi-iru
semi no koe

it is so still—
singing into the stones,
the cicada’s song
My translation of Basho’s haiku.

The first fireflies
Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make! Bram Stoker, Dracula

July –
Hot summer night.
So still, so silent.
I am waiting for the first songs of the cicada.
In the ground for seven years
until it digs itself out and finds itself a tree.
Mating time has come.
Into the silence breaks the song –
Raspy, twirly, the lone voice awakens a chorus.
The next night I sit –
The chorus of cicadas again begin.
In the blackness of the moonless night
I see it –
The first of the bits of mini-lightning.
Exploding here, there, high, low.
The fireflies have also awakened.
Randy mating bugs singing, lighting –
The song of summer from childhood as I sat
At my window – listening.
Running out to catch a few fireflies to put into a jar
Covered with screen and filled with some leaves.
Fireflies by my bed,
Cicadas outside my window.
At last I sleep.
The cicadas continue,
The fireflies shimmer until dawn.
I open the jar and they fly away home.
I return to my childhood every summer.

 

Instagram Poem

Today at Real Toads is Tuesday Platform. Sanaa is Suggesting instagram sized poems. So here we go for day 24 of Nannumope. This is also posted for Poets United Mid-week Motif – Summer.

the full moon flutters
on the surface of the pond
lone cicada sings

The Season of Fireflies is Past

This is for Poetry Pantry at Poets United. Since my mother died in June, I have gone back to writing more. I restricted my posts this past year.  And now here I am trying to get back in the swing of things.  Poets United:  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2017/08/poetry-pantry-365.html  I will also be posting this for Real Toads Tuesday Platform http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-tuesday-platform_8.html and for dVerse Open Link Night this following Thursday.

The Season of Fireflies is Past
the shade from trees is getting longer –
the days are getting shorter –
nights are getting cooler.
The season of fireflies is past.
early summer dusk
black trees against gray skies –
it is so silent.
the sound of a train whistle
several miles away carries
faintly over the tops of trees –
it moves like a slow river and pools
in the black grass of my back yard.
I’ve seen one firefly so far.
It winked at eye level
and a few minutes later it winked higher up
and still a few minutes later it winked
up in the top of the old oak.
the train whistle awakens the insects –
The cicadas and crickets –
it awakens the tree frogs who begin their
treble belching – and the old bullfrog
in my dying garden sings
basso profundo – the cicadas
ratchet it up a little bit louder.
I can feel it in my soul and in my bones –
Summer is taking her shower and soon will
be in her jammies and sleeping.
autumn will awaken and begin his
royal progress throughout the land
trailing clear blue skies, deer, and golden leaves
in his wake.
The season of fireflies is past.

Summer Moon Haiku String

Today is Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub. You can submit any poem of your choice, any form, no form, any subject. Come join us and find your new favorite poet. This was also linked to Poetic Bloomings.   OpenLinkNight #176

oborozuki is Japanese for hazy moon

I.
summer half moon drifts
in a sea of blue – floating
sakura petal

II.
summer night sky – I
descry through blacker branches
oborozuki

III.
luminescent pearl
worn by the night sky – baroque
purity enchants

IV.
the full moon flutters
on the surface of the pond
lone cicada sings

V.
the summer moon bursts
from behind the clouds – startled
an owl takes flight

free Getty Image for non-commercial use

free Getty Image for non-commercial use

 

Cicada’s Farewell

cicada’s voice – last
song of summer loud across
the brown pasture –
he sings to the clear blue sky
with newfound joy

Kitagawa Utamaro | Evening Cicada 1615

Kitagawa Utamaro | Evening Cicada 1615

posted to Poetry Pantry #273  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2015/10/poetry-pantry-273.html

mi ni shimu

dark night – quiet. sound
of cicadas a memory.
empty night – empty heart.

sunt lacrimae rerum

dead cicada lies
under fading crepe myrtle.
I stand. lone mourner.

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