“Healing with Nature” haibun

(Oil,  ” Summer Dusk”, Jane Kohut-Bartels, 2002)

WHAT IS THE PROBLEM WITH THE INTERNET TODAY???  I CAN’T ACCESS ANY BLOG THAT ISN’T WORDPRESS, AND THEN, HARDLY.  I WANT TO READ OTHER HAIBUNS BUT I AM BEING STOPPED.  PERHAPS THIS WILL WORK ITSELF OUT, BUT UNTIL IT DOES, I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT COMMENTING.  IT’S TAKEN ME AN HOUR JUST TO READ THREE BLOGS!  KNOW I WANT TO READ YOUR HAIBUNS!  THIS FORM SEEMS TO BRING OUT THE BEST OF PROSE/POETRY IN US ALL.-

Kanzen Sakura over at dversepoets pub has offered a wonderful prompt.  A meditational walk in the forest, along the shore line, anywhere there is a healing nature to a stroll.  Here, I have only a fourth of a acre, three miles from downtown Atlanta, but I have my gardens, and the sky to relax within.  And a gentle and sometimes rude Nature that brings these gifts to my feet.

Lady Nyo

 

 

My solitude shared-

night time crickets and an owl

the moon must approve

soft moonbeam filters dust motes

a thousand fish swim upstream

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It is late afternoon, winter by calendar, spring by temperament. The radishes have pushed above the dark soil, and look promising.

Two cats and I are sitting on a retaining wall that retains nothing, except Madame Alfred Carriere and Graham Thomas. They both have climbed to the second story and are looking in the windows, watching us sleep. I am surrounded by budding nature, the canna lilies brush my thighs with tenderness, making room for me. I sigh and relax into the gathering dusk.

Last night I heard the wood owls. Their demonic chattering scared me into the chicken coop to stand guard with a rake, nervous as the hens. Now I know they are only six inches tall and can’t eat me.

When I die, I want my ashes scattered on this garden. Then, my ash-hands will caress the seedlings from below, my ash-heart will take pride in their growth, and my ash-ears will still hear those wood owls.

The moon is rising, a beggar’s cup too thin to fatten the soil. Mourning doves chant their benediction and swallows tumble like sickles in the failing light. The dark embraces all below. I am healed from the day’s tribulations. The sounds of the urban give way to the enchantment of the Night.

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The soil our bed

Our classroom and our graves.

Reborn to the world.

Barn Owl, J. Kohut-Bartels, 1999, watercolor

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“European Eagle Owl”, janekohut-bartels, 2003, watercolor

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2017

Tags: dversepoets, Haibun, healing by nature