The wind sweeps across the dunes
And waves break upon the shore
Barren yet beautiful the scene calls
The hear to seek to spend there a moment more
To leave and return to the realm of men
The daily rush of commerce
Seems not so much a life real
But something quite inverse
So give me but a minute more
That my soul with nature can converse
Padre
Crust turbulently rent asunder
Allowing the Earth to vent
Pressure and heat releasing
New landscapes to invent
And when it is all over
Calm shall be restored
And generations shall rebuild there
The past dangers forgotten – ignored
Padre
To build a place to call my own
A home as by me envisioned
My own hands to craft the frame
And its details of my own imagination
How diligently the song bird
With a twig within its beak
Goes to fashion a haven for its eggs
And a place for the night to sleep
Padre
Ocean waves breaking
Posidon’s motion endless
The earth sands recoil
Padre
I emerge from the chilly soil
And turn my face up to the sun
I unflod my petals bright
A sign that spring has come
And as the weather warms
All the world will see
That warmth, colour, and sweet scents
Will have won a victory
Padre
Needles
Blow in the breeze
Evergreen scent drifting
Over the landscape so tranquil
Peaceful
Padre
Purple
Lavender
Fragrant
Colleen’s challenge is to write in a specific form and she has cited haiku and senryu as the week’s choice. She notes: “The current standards for creating Haiku in English suggest a form with three lines and syllables of 3/5/3 (11 syllables). Even the more abbreviated haiku version with three lines and syllables of 2/3/2 (7 syllables) is now thought of more favorably than the traditional 5/7/5 format.” I have therefore gone with the abbreviated seven syllable form.
Padre
Bright upland meadow
Blooming forth with hints of spring
Winter’s snows now passed
Padre
I gaze aloof at the world below
All the creeps underneath me – under my control
Shall it scamper free for yet another day?
Or shall it its fate be to me to fall prey?
I am the master of the night
And my shrill nocturnal call
A thing that brings fright
Yet it is the silence that should bring dread
As I soundlessly swoop down from my flight
Padre
Swept-back wings cut through the air
Acrobatic feats in a clear blue sky
Effortlessly snatching insects mid-flight
While at dizzying speeds they do fly
Swifts a bird so aptly named
As overhead they streak by
Omen of the season’s change
Summer’s arrival they imply
Padre
