Haibun Monday: Komorebi

I am doing the prompt for Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub. I have given the Japanese word komorebi to get people started. The word means light filtered through trees, specifically in spring or summer. I am asking them to write about the season-between-the-seasons, specifically summer into fall.  A classic haiku must end the classic haibun form. A classic haiku must have these elements: a season word,a cutting word, and 5-7-5 syllable form. I am not being particular about the number of syllables but I am being picky about the season word being part of the haiku. If there is no season word, you don’t have a haiku. You have a senryu or micropoem.

 

copyright kanzensakura

Komorebi
The cicadas are loud tonight. They clack and thrum, rattle and hum. The night is slightly cool and the dew smells of fallen leaves. Soon the cicadas will burrow down into the earth to sleep over fall and winter. An owl flies overhead, hunting for prey. I hear it in the woods accompanied by a squeal – some creature has become dinner. Small yellow sunflowers peek from the hedge and the butterfly bush has put out its last bloom. The blackberries have all been eaten by birds, squirrels and chipmunks and the bushes are bare except for leaves which are slowly fading to red – here, here, and here. Only the sunflowers have color in this deepened longer night. It is that strange season between seasons – not summer and not yet fall.  The days are getting shorter, the nights are getting longer.

I stood in my woods today. It is my church, my temple, my cathedral. The light filtering through the leaves give it a holy, hushed atmosphere. Komorebi – the Japanese word for light filtered through leaves 木漏れ. Between the world and the word are three small shapes, the signs for ”tree,” ”escape,” and ”sun.” A beautiful word. I look up and a few of the old oaks are beginning to turn their leaves from deep green to pale yellow. They are still holding tight, refusing to fall. The dead leaves underfoot are damp from the recent rain. They have a moist earthy smell rather than the dry spicy smell of autumn. I brush some of the leaves aside to uncover a large block of velvet green moss. Soon, the little flags they grow to reproduce will turn bright red. A small snake slithers under my boot. I watch it disappear into the safe place of ancient fallen trees. The cicadas are quiet today. But soon they will begin their clack and thrum, their rattle and hum. The moon is full this cool night surrounded by a halo of clouds. Autumn is taking the long road traveling to here.

voice of cicadas –
silent now in the stand of
pine trees on the hill

tani bucho 1817

Haibun: aki fukashi – Autumn Deepens

I am posting this today at Poetry Pantry on Poets United.  Come visit and enjoy the many talented poets linked.  http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.se/2015/10/poetry-pantry-272.html

秋深し (あきふかし Autumn Deepens
Meigetsu: the harvest moon is fading. Bright gold coin in the black sky dims and wanes to a partial dish of cream. Hatsu grashi – the first storm of autumn has washed the sky clean. Aki simu – autumn is clearing – a brilliant blue with luminous white clouds drifting, silent, peace. Aki no koe – the voice of autumn whispers – a breeze across dry leaves on the grass, wind in the reeds at the creek, the little priest cricket delicately moves his legs, a small voice among the pine and bell crickets, alto to the larger cicada and their metallic thrum.

Shinryoo – a new coolness in the air. The coming of autumn is somnolent today – no rise or fall, a steady tone of almost silence. Morning glory twines lovingly around my plum tree and shows her blue face reflecting her sister the brilliant autumn sky – aki no sora. The small grey tabby across the way sits beneath an oak tree watching the occasional slow falling leaf. Her eyes stay upward and she does not move for she wants to see the leaves as they float and fall around her. An early leaf burning: smoke wanders and its incense drifts to heaven. I sit entranced in the midst of the haiku I wish I could write.

voice of cicadas
silent now in the stand of
pine trees on the hill.

painting Tani Bucho 1817

painting Tani Bucho 1817

d’Verse Poetics – Guest Prompter: Healing of Nature – tanka

Today at d’Verse Poetics Pub, CC is our guest “bartender”. She is speaking to us about Nature and the healing of Nature so our poems are being written around that theme. So many of us, I know, find that peace and healing in Nature – no matter how busy the day or how much stress, some time in our gardens, walking in a park, sitting on a porch in the summer night and listening to the night sounds, always seem to soothe us and help heal our hearts. I have included a video from YouTube of a summer night in East Tennessee. it is like the summer night sounds around here. The video is 3 1/2 minutes long, but the first few seconds should give you a good idea if you want to listen. There are no visuals, just darkness and summer sounds.  These sounds remind me of my childhood and sitting out at night.  I still do that – sit on my back steps at night to rest, recycle, reclaim my inner peace, being restful with Nature.

Come join us at d’Verse Poetics today and read about healing Nature and please, feel free to contribute one of your poems along that theme! We are not a bunch of snobs and welcome all to participate in the discussion and to link up your poem and comment.  http://dversepoets.com/2015/07/28/poetics-in-tune-with-nature

cicadas singing
summer night lullaby – warm
darkness surrounds – day’s
distractions all disappear –
soft night’s healing peace

Equinox 11:58 p.m. 12:06 a.m.

Warm air

Like bathwater.

Dog day cicadas susurrate.

The woods are silent and dark.

Green smell of grass

Seems to fade.

I feel the seasons changing.

A coolness brushes my cheek

And crickets begin their sawing.

Cicadas fall silent as they burrow

Into the earth.

Subtle but detectable change.

The spicy smell of maple leaves

And dried pine needles:

Brown smell, no longer green smell

In the air.

My pulse quickens.

The lethargic breeze of hot humid summer

Leaves my body

And is replaced by

The quicker breath of

Autumn wind.

So still I stand

The heavy dew of autumn

Coats my hair

And clothing.

I shiver but the shiver

Is the uncomplicated cool of autumn

And not the hostile shiver of winter

Nor the slight vibration of summer.

Summer sighs and goes to sleep.

Autumn awakens.

 

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