Above fortified walls
Dramatic clouds crease skies
Medieval wonder.
Castle in the sand
A border occupation
Bucket and spade.
Bamburgh Castle – Haiku
Forecast – a haibun
Speckled the sky
Blankets the stratus
Signals a change
Of the English sky
Such is obsession
To look up and predict
Never a constant given.
Mackerel sky
A forecast of the morning
Rain tonight.
Night Watch Privilege
Night
Through hours past midnight
Stretches time
Unusually dark and moonless
The air holds its breath
Through drawn fingers of spent wind
Total silence is layered
Like black is to white
To the stillness
The ticking of the watch
Pulsation synchronised
To heartbeat
The breath of the cows slow and warm
The distant horn of the lighthouse
25 miles out
Strangeness its rhythm
These things which disregarded are
When the dawn begins
A palpitating constancy like breathing itself.
Surfing the clouds
Surfing the clouds on the golden edge
Above huge swell of smoke hewn drifts
The sun just dips behind
Where Icarus are you?
The line of the moor an etched grim
Line of no response
Ominous in presence
Larger in form
The battle in the skies
Set.
Haibun Storm
Momentum builds no mercy
As pounding venom
Of wind pulsates
Spiralling depression
Through the night
Trees enslaved bow low
As all nature departs the scene;
Ensnared the entanglement of life
Draws purpose
Splitting atoms from the sky
Of energy riven;
Feathers of dreams discard
Like pollen
Into the air
Cotton -candy spun.
Storm Approaching
Prelude to the orchestration
Of the storm ahead
Leaves pummelled
And inverted like wrung out
Prayer flags
Lime green triangles
That strain from branches
Confetti strewn on the lawn
Cauliflower -topped clouds
Fringed golden
Stream
Battle lines drawn
For glorified war.
The Garden in July
Roller coaster weather from hot and dry to torrential rain and cool gales but my first attempt with dahlias has paid off.
Bats – Haiku
Tiny fleeting shadows
Ghosts above the window frame
Blurred story folklore.
Second season of bats right above the bedroom window – lovely to see them come and go but I do shut the top window incase they mistake the opening ! They are literally just under the barge boards.
Was it lightning ?
The light flickers behind my closed lids
It’s hard to know if it’s lightning
So used we are to recrudescences of screens
At the beginning of the day
Should I check the phone
(www.realtimelightning.org)?
But the air is thick and intense
And the soughing rush of the trees
Signals air whipped up under the heavy cloud
And the sky a thunder black
With an ominous feel
As the rain drops
Splash
With poignancy
Meeting the slate with a defined creak
One by one, so very slowly
Deliberately
And the cows in the field are sitting down.
As Summer Evenings slip into Night
The heat of the day dissipates
To a heady mix of scent
And enveloping blanket
Of stillness
Of creeping damp
As beads of dew form on the lawn;
An owl hoots somewhere in the valley
The answer not given
The air hangs close tickling the cheek;
Dry leaves break the silence
Falling to the ground
From the oak, eager to shed its load;
Occasional rustling is heard
From the tall grasses at the fringe;
The bank stirs of a proximal
World of other creatures who wake
To this space;
Even the fish
Rise to the surface
Of the dark, black pool
To circle and chase in the chasm
Lit by the iridescence of the moon,
The rings marbling the surface
Like oil
In fluidity
Orange stain drawn through black ink;
The first stars peeping through
The pastel glow
Sequins above the northern ridge
As seamless the transition
Binds evening to night.
Ruth Partridge 