fall ’sightings’

1. 

river barge

pulling logs against the flow

against the twilight

 

2. 

evergreen

flailing in the haze—

the first low star

 

3. 

a quiver

in the lavender bush?

but starlings roosting

 

So little time–that’s how the shift of seasons feel. Fall has shortened the day and the heart begins to crave for lost space that it doesn’t even recall which or where. I’ve lost track of ‘treasures’ I failed to gather; they’ve since turned into mush–I wouldn’t be able to sift them off the ground. Yet dying is so glorious in the gold of autumn. Again I can’t even think of how much ‘jornal’ I deserve for these fall sightings.

la lluvia en la noche

la lluvia en la noche

evening rain

se cae en ramas de ciprés

 

falls on cypress branches

temblores en el aire

shivers in the air

 

la lluvia nocturna

evening rain

 

on stone pavement

seeps into a dry bed–

the sigh of quenched roots

 

la tarde de otoño

autumn afternoon

 

streaks my hair blue-gray

trembles on maples in gold

las caídas como oro en hojas de arce

 

wet morning

 

una mañana mojada

brushes mildew the starlings

frost on my thoughts

 

on tips of purple basil

autumn crackles into dreams

the sound of dying

 

el suenos de morir

 

Spanish words haven’t left me–they hover around, prance and whisper not to me but the starlings. I’m not sure if I’m getting the words right but this is how they do their dance in my consciousness. No jornal again for me? How much should I tag ‘the sigh of quenched of roots’?

sequence-la luna blanca

la luna blanca

white  moon

 

rising in the east

a patch on my shadowed

wedding veil

 

en la bahía

on the bay

 

melting on ripples

its path on halved waters

our braided hands

 

un velo bordado

an embroidered veil

 

mira mi cara blanca

la imagen de una noche solitaria

un corazón vacío

 

look on my white face

the reflection of a solitary night

an empty heart

 

la luna blanca

white moon

 

sets at midday

wraps me in a cloud

invisible in blue

 

un brillo en los arboles

sheen in the tress

 

returns at ebb tide

creeps to my bed

stays

 

un blanco sueno

white dream

 

se decolora en un beso

caído como rocío en las rosas

un cielo rosado

 

fades into a kiss

falls as dew on the roses

a pink sky

 

As jornal for this sequence, I cannot even conjure a number.  It’s like one those tasks I had done gratis because the value is in the product, which is beyond value.

summer souvenirs

haiku

1.

under a maple tree

robin struts alone

red-eyed

 

2.

stones on the shore

spell out words–

i pick dots in the i’s

 

3.

on the water

full moon halves the bay

we hold hands

 

I give myself $500 each for these summer souvenirs.

haiku-la luna blanca

1.

la luna blanca

llores en mi corazon

el silencio en aula

 

(white moon

weeps in my heart

the muted cage)

2.

los ruisenores

mosca en la noche blanca

deje heridas

 

(the nightingales

fly into the white night

leaving wounds behind)

 

Listening to Julio Iglesias, I was suddenly composing these haiku in Spanish! I feel like winning the lotto! But I can’t reward myself with a million dollar “jornal”–that would not match the value of joy (alegria!!!), which, of course, is priceless. I’ll say for these haiku, I pay myself a $1000.

end of the street-haiku

I’m adding $800 as my ‘jornal’ to an otherwise dry summer day yesterday but for these haiku sparks.

1.

at the end of the street

in the fading summer light–

she and her dog

2.

a crackle

in the dry summer wind–

choked with tears

summer evening pickings-haiku

Like a bonus, these ’summer evening pickings’ , these haiku moments swept me on my walk this early evening. I suppose I deserve a ‘jornal’ of $1000–not a small jackpot on Canada Day (tomorrow, July  1st).  Thanks to ‘poet upinvermont’, I really seem more attuned.

1.

delayed arrival–

a pregnant moon hangs

on a summer sky

2.

by the gate

she stops to smell a rose–

monks chanting matins

3.

hydrangea blooms

over the fence my eye-level

children’s portrait

4.

empty white chair

on a front lawn at dusk

a dog sniffs its legs

in the rain-haiku

It rained a bit today, fine like baby’s hair unlike the whoosh of sudden rain I got soaked in one afternoon at the Van Dusen gardens. For that memory and this haiku, I add another $500 for my ‘jornal’.

a sudden rain–

children run for shade

under the weeping spruce

white moon-haiku

When a haiku moment sparks, I must be awake. I’m glad I was when it flashed just now. This must have come from a memory; it could have happened during one of my daily walks–a moment that did not mean anything then, until it was distilled as this haiku. Precious as it is, I must give myself another $500 as ‘jornal’. I hope you agree with me.

 

white moon

over the crown of maples

his face when I left

haiku

It’s been a long time since I earned a ‘jornal’. For this first haiku moment in weeks I give myself $500 because of its element of surprise. It swept me on my quite walk this afternoon at Fraser River Park close to where I live. I hope you agree with me.

sudden snowstorm

on a late spring walk–

but cottonwood blooms