in the dark (senryu)

some of us will try

to find the light, not knowing

that the light finds us

–photo by me

Monochrome Monday 4/18/22

–Photos by me

Birds

I wanted to get some photos of birds this morning, but I had a dilemma: I could either take them of the birds at my backyard feeder, which were a sure thing, but a little boring, or I could take a walk down to the pond in the woods, which might prove more interesting, but might also be birdless. I decided to take my chances with the pond.

Cutting across a farmer’s field on my way to the woods, I ran into a couple of cranes standing around on impossible legs. The farmer’s don’t like to see cranes in their fields as they’re harmful to the crops.

When I got to the trees, I was surprised to find a turkey vulture sunning himself. Vultures must be the ugliest birds ever with their featherless heads and turtle-neck sweaters.

Once I was under the trees, I felt like I was being watched–and I was. Overhead, a marsh hawk stared at me with his keen vision until I passed. With so many birds along the way, I assumed I’d strike out at the pond.

I was not disappointed.

–Photos by me

Full Circle

I reached into spacetime

And grasped the tiny hand

Of the crying little boy

Who was made to go away.

“Who are you?” I asked.

In an oddly familiar voice,

He answered, “Goodness.”

Suddenly I remembered.

I pulled him to me

And we became one–

Again.

Spring Freshet (haibun)

With the melting snow, spring is not only in the air, but in our streams and rivers as well.

Today, I’m up here at the U.S./Canadian border to check out some of the smaller tributaries flowing into the Rainy River. It’s so nice to see the water flowing again! I was up here last fall, and, after a long, dry summer, this particular stream had been reduced to a trickle.

As the laughing waters come gushing out of the woods, it reminds me of the ebb and flow of life. We were born of water, so it’s no wonder we have an affinity with streams and rivers. Life is very much a river.

As I stand here overlooking the run-off, it is so beautiful that I feel my own stream overflowing.

* * *

silent all winter

the babbling brook now becomes

a roaring river