Over the hill there’s hope of a statue not made of stone, but of water. Today, it’ll flow up, a fountain, but tomorrow, it might be rain. And it will shape itself, could be visionary, through changing colours and the painful blur. And, a mountain waterfall will feed it, clear and fresh from glaziers above….
Month: July 2020
Morning Haiku – 19
A duet of Gold Finches show off Summer shows of aerobatics.
Jul30
Quietly padding through the silent factories another speck of dust is magnetically attracted to its peers upon the shoulders of stagnant monsters, so unindustrious. The depths of resounding recall white noise fizzing in my ears, but my attention is attenuated towards the snap of a far away mouse halved under the released tension of a…
Morning Haiku – 18
July wafts through my garden and fidgets the bells on the old wind chime.
Jul29
Trouble. Trouble stretches open its cage, shaking off its chains, ready for its moniker. A strange beast that curls, as abstract as smoke, as nimble as a statue. Its hooked hands are ready to throttle then grip, turn you inside out, and wear you like a suit, and then, once it’s complete, discard your used…
Morning Haiku – 17
Summer boils the car drawing dancing haze across sizzling bonnets.
Morning Haiku – 16
Rejected again. Summer is no different from a raven picking.
Morning Haiku – 15
John is so simple. He is a Summer jester and dances feebly.