Tag: summer
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Miz Quickly Day 21
Iced Tea and Hot Beef Broth This is an ugly duckling summer. Dim set and pallid as December. We are drowning in sweaters. Steaming beef broth in mugs. There’s thunder in the wind, and rain thorny sharp. But still, hope lives long, that summer soon swans gently into July. for Miz Quickly’s Day…
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Poetic Bloomings Does Goodbyes
Goodbye to Summer I’m reading this past summer backwards. Like a book. From a distance. And I’m uncertain why I hold this season in such high regard because for most of it – I was flushed hot, barely able to breathe in dripping humidity and swarthy air, and then came those dry sheets of wind…
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Poetic Bloomings: 31 July
Summer Sunset We picked these last days from the bones of summer, said farewell to seagulls wheeling on the wind. We’ll miss their cry that swells on waves, their flight is a handsome turn, as sunlight falls into a death by water. written for Poetic Bloomings Summer Entertainment: Day 31
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Poetic Bloomings: 27 July
Fades to Black A length of wind can run chase through summer. Limestone to sand, and blow white hot, then tempered pink into a shade that sinks the sun, chills the day, and sets to hide its crimson fragrance into the horizon. And palmed like magic, it fades to black. © Misky 2016, for…
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for dVerse: Haibun #17
Heat: To Sweat & Turn & Tick By 5 o’clock, I’m buckled into heat. Its grim tactics empty me of summer’s pleasure – no appetite for sweet cherries, no thirst for berries. And tender leaves curl in distress, shrivel into brown and brittle spines as if devoured by cruelty. And so pitiful those cankered apples…
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Poetic Bloomings: 25 July
Between Here and There The beach sings white. Children heard. Cries deferred to birds above, or the joyous crack of rock candy between teeth. On the rise, a breeze. Such sweet relief. We are in a momentary peacetime. Between bad news. Half way to a tide’s ebb. Half way to melting. In the grasp of…
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Poetic Bloomings: 24 July
Here to Stay These are immortal days where my memories keep vigil to passing years. Memory-etched scenes, as if drawn from favourite books — forever loved, forever comforting, they become old friends — a kindness for resting bones. And in my late afternoons, I stretch into a feline dream, a divine summer sleep, that’s as…
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Poetic Bloomings: 22 July
Gazing Into Puddles It’s July, and I’m star gazing at black seeds in watermelon. Gazing at rainbow sprinkles on ice cream. I count miles — 1 (one-hundred), 2 (one-hundred) … between lightning and thunder. I count fireflies; so unaware that they’ll dim and go black as those watermelon seeds. I’m gazing at miles between us.…
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Poetic Bloomings: 17 July
“I know I am but Summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay On the Hard Points of Pebbles Feels almost prehistoric now, it was that long ago. I was paid a pittance for watering the neighbour’s gardens. Every evening I spilled the coolness of…
It's Still Life 