Category Archives: 5-7-5

Road Trip

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It’s my first excursion in my newly acquired camper van. I drive from city freeways to arterial roads to country roads to the vague essence of roads in middle-of-nowhere eastern Oregon. 

I remember driving roads like this in my  younger years, in a handpainted red Dodge pickup, where I sometimes had to hop out of the cab, raise the hood and shove a rod back in place so I could shift out of neutral. A simpler time, a simpler vehicle.

When oncoming drivers begin raising a hand in casual greeting as they pass, I remember this neighborly act from my small-town upbringing. Though the van and the road are new to me, I recognize this pace, this sense of community and commonality. 

On reaching my campsite, I rest easy in the stillness and reminisce about times past when ruts and potholes preceded speed bumps, and when drivers raised more than just one finger to one another in common salutation.  

in burlap-rough folds,

hills of scrub and juniper

bask like sun warmed snakes

dVerse prompt for Haibun Monday: Remembrance

RESPECT

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On a wall near my kitchen hangs a whiteboard, a space for grandkids to draw or write or doodle. It also bears a list of household expectations in the form of an acrostic that spells RESPECT. 

In response to this week’s dVerse Poetics prompt on The Seven Grandfather teachings, I have expanded the acrostic, adding haiku (or haiku adjacent 5-7-5’s) to reflect on each point. Herewith: RESPECT.

Respond when spoken to.

    nocturnal creatures
    turn skyward their plaintive calls
    answered by the night
	
Exhale, don’t explode.

    fire breathes hot and harsh
    wind goads it into fury
    water stills the breath	

Share

    sun shines and rain falls
    life-sustaining to us all
    flowers do not hoard

Politeness

    Wildlife etiquette?
    Was the lion ever told
    “Chew with your mouth closed?”
	
Expect good things

    each spring life unfolds
    hibernators search out food
    seedlings seek the sun

Contribute

    fast dive, talons splayed
    the prey snagged and now airborne
    there are mouths to feed

Tell the truth

    “Who?” asks the barred owl.
    “Me, me, me,” says the catbird.	
    Northern flicker laughs.

Fleeting Blossoms

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While walking through the park, my dog Chules and I pause at an apple tree. I am drawn to the white-pink blossoms and the bees that float among them. Chules is more intrigued by the base of the trunk, and the invisible messages left there by other dogs. He lifts his leg and adds his own note to the trunk. 

cherry blossoms wane

pink petals carpet the ground 

apple tree looks on

Day 29 of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). In response to dVerse prompt: Haibun Monday: late cherry blossoms.

Elon’s Devil’s Fingers

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Oh, Dyssie, suss out:

Bored gods gamble with your life.

Find allies. Fight back.

Elon’s devil’s fingers

Devil’s fingers (Clathrus archeri ), also known as octopus stinkhorn, is a  fungus which has a global distribution. In maturity it smells like putrid flesh.

“Dawn’s rosy fingers” is a recurring metaphor in Homer’s works, like The Odyssey, where it signifies the beginning of a new day and the start of events.