houseboat river meander
sun glistened water
rain ping roof and ripple swish base
doe eyes stare from woods across
myriad shades of green
priceless time away
feeds my soul
soothes my mind
city life be gone
nature
The Earth Quaked
Battered adobe
children lost, life in chaos
earth moans in despair.
Winter Scene
still pond
mesmerizes
migration complete
trees shrouded in winter white
prayer shawl pulled tight
face to the sky
Photo credit: Merelize
Missing You
Dear Iowa,
It was osmosis.
City girl absorbed red barns
waving cornfields and fresh plum jam
tractors spewing dust from dawn
drop-in neighbors and party-line phones
sheets flapping on backyard lines
towns without stop lights
and churches with hats.
Neon lights are not fireflies.
Lillian
Our Rural Roots
Cars travel dirt roads
on hot sultry summer days,
dust clouds trail behind.
Cornfields stretch for miles.
Farmers perched on green machines
rumble through the rows.
Keepers of the land,
they rose before the sun
to feed you and me.
Haiku trio. Photos: corn from our Iowa garden many years ago. Tractor: by Loretta Humble.
Reflections
Have you seen the moment?
When the sun, in all her glory
becomes maker of the glorious.
Beyond warmth,
she turns light rays into magic
magnified by two.
Image maker supreme
in smooth-as-glass mountain tarns,
upon a building’s see-through wall
or in the garden’s sculpture pond.
The beautiful is embellished,
shines double delight.
In response to the Daily Post Photo Challenge: Ornate. Photos: Mt. Rainer at Reflection Pond in Mt Rainer National Park; The Dale Chihuly glass displays in Denver Botanic Gardens; reflection of Trinity Church in Boston’s John Hancock Tower; Stan Hywet Gardens in Akron, Ohio.
Cormorant
The cormorant held its breath
and disappeared from sight.
Black, long necked sleek bird,
ducked under, gone.
Like an actor in the second act
it pops up in a different place
new school of fish
different shoreline.
Would that we could do that
shift the paradigm
be a revisionist cormorant,
hold our breath
and recreate the scene.
Chilled Hearth
Winter comes so soon,
red flannel bathrobe mornings
padding through my room.
lillian the home poet 