Seeker of wisdom,
the willow root is waiting
with a word for you.
If the lilies bloom,
I trust they will be fragrant—
meanwhile, drought persists.
Following a path
leading to forgotten fields,
I begin to dream.
More The Whirligig #328
More Writers’ Pantry #80 at Poets and Storytellers United
Last year was hard—it was brutal!—as the world endured the Covid-19 pandemic. Here a mother died, there a father, and somewhere else a whole family. Some of us lost our homes, because we couldn’t work. Some of us ended up sleeping under bridges, or in fields, or in other out-of-the-way places. We were desolate. We couldn’t reach out to each other for a hug or handshake because we were in lockdown, afraid for our lives. Nothing seemed to help. And then came harbingers of hope, bearing strange names: Pfizer, Moderna, AstraZeneca—vaccines to vanquish the virus! We offered our arms for a jab, and started to look beyond our nightmare, daring to hope that our world might someday be normal again.
Hidden mountain stream—
see, a doe and her fawn come
for the day’s first drink!
Everything stirs up my blood:
Leaves and grass, and squishy mud.
Dancers in the field don’t need
Anything but chicken feed.
Don’t give garbage to your cow!
Stop this nonsense, stop it now!
I wish I could see the light;
Hear bees whisper, “It’s all right.”
More The Whirligig #263
More Writers’ Pantry #17 at Poets and Storytellers United
In a field of strange surprises, one chipped cup appears;
Yellow roses near the lip have faded with the years.
A clothesline pinned with tables, along with rusty tools,
Earns heaps of raw derision from mouths of Sunday fools.
They say the world is flooding and seas are black with ink.
But who knows what the truth is, and who knows what to think?
The end of time’s upon us, and dust coats every shelf.
But what’s the use of cleaning? Just leave that to the elf.
More The Whirligig #260
More Writers’ Pantry #14 at Poets and Storytellers United
Santa Fe National Cemetery, New Mexico
Wild asters, Apache County, Arizona
Yucca transitioning from blossom to seedpod, Navajo National Monument, Northern Arizona
part of a rice field—
in an intimate corner
two women undress
~~ ~~ ~~
the naked women
in one patch of the rice field—
~~ ~~ ~~
jagged rice stubble—
no place for their lovemaking
in the harvest field
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem: “Basho’s ‘One Patch of a Rice Field'”
More Three Word Wednesday: “Intimate, Jagged, Thirst”
Subtle early morning shadows steal across agricultural land, Yuma County, Arizona