(our hens, mostly nameless….for eggs only)
true to form: we are losing power here….the computer/stove/lights/dishwasher/washer and dryer and every other damn thing that runs on this invisible juice. Anyone I have missed in visiting, I will try to make admends…. tomorrow or when we stabilize. Thanks…
Haibun: Weather Report
=
Solitude is shared
by night time crickets, plus owl
the moon must approve
soft moonbeam filters dust motes
a thousand fish swim upstream
–
My solitude was enforced by a hot summer and then a 43 day drought. They haven’t seen such since 1884. From inside, I watched bushes dry up, flower beds melt and a vegetable garden giving up the ghost. Our water bills, the second highest in the country, tripled when we tried to water. Digging up an ailing rosebush, the soil was baked brick. Amazed the rose bush survived. Half was gone. The vegetable garden whimpered when I passed.
This fall brought tragedy. A beloved cat, Stripy. One month on and I am still mourning. Our seventeen year old Golden/Chow is getting quarrelsome. The addition of Mia, an English Staffordshire bull terroir isn’t helping his disposition. We are all aging here, even the hens. The good news is this drought is to be broken a little starting tonight. There are 30 forest fires burning in North Georgia. We hear these fires will be burning until Xmas. Even those of us who don’t believe in prayer, are praying.
Frosty autumn night
The moon glides through chilly dreams
Red Maple stands sentry
–
The rains have started this morning, around 2am. I could smell it…still far in the distance, like an old camel, so thirsty we are for any rain after 43 days. It started gently, as if washing the grime off the skin of our world and then harder and harder to dissolve the dirt. The sound of the baritone wind chime outside my bedroom window gave the most beautiful music as if welcoming the rain with a celestial song, for what is a wind chime but a way for the wind to announce its presence besides a howl? I opened windows and smelled the combined smell of asphalt, ozone and moisture. I thought of some Berbers I knew, who wrote songs about the rain only falling every five years in parts of the desert. O, Blessed Rain!
Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2016
Tags: Autumn Haiku, d'versepoets pub, Haibun, weather report
November 28, 2016 at 9:50 pm
What hardship it is. Lovely haibun Jane. I do hope the end of the drought brings relief to you, but maybe you should take up the prayer habit…lol that will never be a waste….hehehehehe.
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November 28, 2016 at 9:52 pm
I’m trying, Helene! I’m trying…..for the forest’s sake if nothing else.
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November 28, 2016 at 10:02 pm
This is wonderful and sad, what a struggle for you and your menagerie (and mostly the cat of course). The tanka and the haiku both providing a balance to the prose.
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November 28, 2016 at 10:07 pm
For ageing hens they are very colourful, Jane!
I can’t imagine a 43 day drought or how it would affect hens, I can almost hear the vegetable garden whimpering!
I’m sorry about Stripy
That is a lovely haiku – cool relief after the drought,
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November 28, 2016 at 10:51 pm
Those hens remind me of some I used to have. I hope you get plenty of rain.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:09 pm
I do hope the area sees some precipitation soon. You capture the torpid spirit in your words.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:13 pm
Oh.. Lord yes.. now..
my friend.. two months
iN A Panhandle of
Florida
with
only
sprinkles
‘tween.. grey
skies and barometer
lowering depresSing
dArk and
exCitinG
as
storm
oF liFE soon comes
iN Thunder head wake Joy..:)
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November 28, 2016 at 11:25 pm
A beautiful haibun Jane and I too hope the end of the drought is near. I was so sorry to hear about Stripy, he was such a kind soul and he will hopefully be at peace on the other side of the rainbow. Sending hugs xxx
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November 28, 2016 at 11:33 pm
Thank you, Xenia. This one was hard. Stripy was special, though I only knew him for a year and a half. The drought is terrible. So many acres, wildlife lost. And the poor firefighters….may they find peace in the midst of this chaos.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:35 pm
Thank you, Brian. I would like to not be able to capture this torpid spirit….too close for comfort. Thank you, Again, dear friend.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:38 pm
Thank you Frankenbunny….LOL! Frankhubeny….that would be the best of all.
The wind is picking up, we haven’t heard this in quite a while. It’s like the whole state is becalmed and now? They are saying that we could have electricity disruptions, fallen trees, etc. Well, I have 8 hens and a very pretty rooster. He’s a bit younger than the hens and at first they just made his life miserable….but he’s a sweet boy.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:39 pm
Thank you, Kim….a first flash of lightening…..I better shut down. Thank you, Kim for reading….later, alligator.
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November 28, 2016 at 11:40 pm
Thank you, Bjorn. Some days, I don’t know what I am writing…it’s a flip of the coin. This haibun started out about solitude and I realized it was more a weather report. LOL!
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November 28, 2016 at 11:45 pm
I started laughing when I saw the hens (having chickens, giving us great breakfast and graciously offering us with sunday Dinner).
…the heard your message.
ZQ
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November 29, 2016 at 3:38 am
Gorgeous writing – it has heart and soul. I’m along the Blue Ridge and I feel this poem!
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November 29, 2016 at 5:37 am
Such a beautiful and poignant haibun, Jane 💝
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November 29, 2016 at 6:17 am
Oh, Jane, you made me see and feel it all.
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November 29, 2016 at 7:07 am
Stay safe, Jane, and enjoy the storm!
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November 29, 2016 at 8:33 am
Thank you, Sherry! I’m up at 3:33am listening, smelling the blessed rain. I’m come over later this morning.
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November 29, 2016 at 8:34 am
Thank you, Sanaa! The rain has started and who can sleep?
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November 29, 2016 at 8:37 am
Yep, ZQ….they aren’t ‘eatin’ hens. The last one who died was 11 years old. She was wonderful, a yellow hen who mothered 5 chicks I placed in her feathers. Most hens aren’t domestic anymore, but this one was just waiting for babies…..
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November 29, 2016 at 9:34 am
💞💞💞
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November 29, 2016 at 1:25 pm
This is one of the most beautiful poems to rain I’ve read. Thank you
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November 29, 2016 at 2:35 pm
Thank you, Georgeplace.
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November 29, 2016 at 7:08 pm
Rain..something we often take for granted. You give us every reason not to in this wonderful offering. I hope there is much more nurturing rain on the horizon.Sending positive thoughts and prayers.
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November 29, 2016 at 7:33 pm
Living, as I do, in two drought-plagued regions, I can understand the pain. This morning’s paper told us that California has lost 1.2 million trees to drought. Maybe it was billion. Here in Reno we lost a maple and an ash. In the desert of SoCal, we lost a number of trees to wind because their roots hadn’t developed. I loved the second line of the haiku, especially.
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November 29, 2016 at 7:36 pm
Thank you, Victoria for being able to feel my pain…which is all of our pain.
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November 29, 2016 at 7:37 pm
Thank you, Mish! The rain filled up the 3 extra barrels, but we have more on the horizon. Now I have to put this collected rain in each rose bush, tree, etc. They may be drowning in rain by the end of my labors, but better than the opposite!
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