I’m back from two weeks exploring canyons in the American West. Now I need a vacation to rest up from my vacation! As I work my way back into the daily routine, I hope you enjoy a few photos and some canyon-inspired haiku.
parched earth, dry with dust
the white sun bakes a blue sky
a spring desert blooms
arid land fractured
by a river’s slow wander
through five billion years
golden canyons cleave
ancient swirls of earth revealed
smoothed by the winds’ breath
spring cold and waist deep
rivers lead around the bend
carved canyons beckon
uplift of the land
seas recede, plates in motion
beauty wrought by time
I also read 11 amazing books and will share my reviews shortly.
My blogger friend Brad over at Writing to Freedomis having a birthday today. If you haven’t visited Brad’s blog, you’re in for a treat. He takes beautiful photos and writes poetry (often haiku) to complement them.
He invited his followers and their muses to stop by. My usual muses are negotiating with a necromancer and outsmarting reapers, so I contacted a muse escort service and this is who they sent:
I didn’t know there were haiku muses, but apparently, they’re everywhere. Just check your backyard or local park. My diminutive muse flitted around the garden while I packed a picnic. She wanted to show me a place called Silver Falls.
Happy Birthday, Brad. My little muse and I wrote these for you!
hidden glades of light
sift through mottled canopies
a glimpse of magic
green curlicues and whimsy
crowning last year’s fronds
boughs of emerald lace
spring’s parasols catch the light
fragrant in the sun
old stumps die and thrive
nurse a woodland’s nascent growth
life cycles entwined
glittering with frothy light
rainbow in the mist
Happy Birthday to Brad from the land of big trees!
“Climate change.” My elderly father taps the newspaper. “What do they think? That we can just close down businesses? Give up our cars? Stop eating hamburgers? No one’s going to go along with that.”
I don’t respond, our perspectives so far apart, words can’t bridge the chasm.
“And why should I care?” he asks the paper. “I’m not going to be around when it all goes to hell.”
My grandson plays in front of the television, watching superhero cartoons. His great grandfather flicks the remote. The child stills, silent, stares. Silhouettes of kangaroos leap across the burning sky, a world on fire.
Lament your future
As we grant with apathy
A burned legacy
God bless the little children
We bequeath a blazing world
Note: Apologies to my father for the portrayal. This is so NOT him.
I can’t get the photos of Australia’s fires out of my head.
I made a deal with myself that I’d take a week off every 3 months to relax, go outside, and reconnect with friends and family. Well… the last one was 6 months ago. Oops.
Deadlines are looming on the next two books, and it’s time for a little elbow grease! I’ll be offline for a week or so getting ahead of schedules, enjoying a little reading and a lot of sunshine (I hope).