Late Sunday night I’m sipping tea and watching the end of, “Ray Donovan: The Movie.” And crying. Chauncey, the puppy, should be running in dreams after hounding Mlady and Dotty all day; instead, he’s nibbling my toes. What a silly, synchronous act of comforting. top image link Note: Chauncey passed away in 2016, but he…
Category: dverse
dVerse — Haibun Monday — Winter with February 5, 2022 video update
Every year on inland lakes and ponds in Michigan, hardy souls walk out onto the ice, auger holes into it, and drop fishing lines, hoping to catch enough pan fish to feed their families dinner. Just as many go out onto the ice for fresh air and the comraderie of kindred spirits. In years gone…
dVerse — OLN 309 — winter haiku
cold brick notice brings a smile to rosy cheeks boots crunch snow to lake summer spirits empty winter pavilion smell of wood smoke bare trees stand, still winter benches brushed with snow along frozen lake straight steps soon turn away from the cloudy sun cold hands, warm heater Out and about on errands today, I…
dVerse — Poetics — Snow Crunches on the Sidewalk
Major Season (Sekki): Deep Winter Deep Winter is where there is no sign of the beauty of autumn or spring. The memory of autumn has faded and the hope of spring feels too far away. Micro-Season (Kō): Snow Crunches on the Sidewalk This is the time of year when temperatures dip so low that the…
dVerse — Form for All — A trip to the library
I raise my mask and leave the car,the slot not far.I drop them in;one circuit ends. I spy upon the reserve rackmy labeled stack.I scan them in;circuit begins. Outside mask drops; I breathe in frost,first bag car-tossed;next in I heaveinto; then leave. This “minute” has been repeated for many circuits since retirement in 2018….
dVerse — Poetics — Mariana
There is a human wildness held beneath the skin. – by Jim Harrison, from Songs of Unreason When Sol burns white sea turns deep green; where sand warms, my bones do not shiver. A pale palm across lids shadow transports, bass deep and high to a realm of relic seasoned whiff; where incorporate clouds…
dVerse — Quadrille 144 — Snow Birds
Matters not hue nor contour, when winter’s crystal flies and frosts the trees birds’ feathers shiver large to puff into warm coat fluff. Arranged in tacit, ordered array, clawed stoics cling to chill branches until called to trapeze feeders atwist in arctic breeze. Merril is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille Monday. Merril says: Use shiver–or…
Tao Talk 