Dipping skinny-style, screaming out in glee, we entered the river to revive. Jumping away from the heated August afternoon only to return to the warm rocks and bask like turtles. Then followed hours of our rinse and repeat cycle as sunlight slid down the river. Summer freedom was its own kind of happy. Without the constraints of parents or the weight of planning for the future to come. We flew through the air trusting the pools to welcome us with a generosity that had held so many before our time. There were no thoughts of tomorrow. bubbled free water nymphs laze summertide ©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Join a welcoming community of poets at dVerse for Haibun Monday, HERE
Just now – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
Now as I remove it, I lay it down. It leans back on the bed relaxing into a stretch my stiff body is unable to replicate. It has protected me from the virus all day and expects to have some time off. I breathe in, stretch, and begin to wonder how many words it has caught in the past few months? Words I thought to express but didn't. I hesitate often with thought, with care for myself and others. I don't speak as quickly as I used to. It is not for lack of valuing my voice. It is that the past months have shifted me. In the last year I have wondered more than ever how my words will be heard and where they might land. Looking down now. I realize how often I redirected sentences into my mask instead of sending them. I see so many captured. There are layers of phrases. More than yesterday. Some scribbled from speaking to myself, some barely readable as they were spoken in a whisper under my breath. They are massed together. Jumbled softly in the woven fabric, an unusual relic. Is it worth saving? Is it worth deciphering these undelivered words? What could I learn if I used a magnifying glass to dig backward? revisit the past there is wisdom in Spring rain see today's blossoms © Ali Grimshaw 2021 Napowrimo 2021 Join us on dVerse for Haibun Monday
The Gift – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
He bought it used. It was heavy and solid like home. Soon he began to peel the layers away. It was painted antique green and underneath she remembered a layer of white, then bright orange. She was not sure what the the other colors were but it had been coated and recoated by many who had different preferences. He spent hours cleaning away paint brushed into the crevices and cracks. It was a labor of care to reach the wood grain underneath all of those years. She watched him work off and on knowing he would continue. He told her it would be hers but her doubt piled up with the days. Through the sanding and peeling of hours of evenings. It was taking a long time, so much time and more than he realized it would. After all of that scraping away to bring the beauty to light, she knew that it couldn’t be passed to another, even a daughter that he loved. It wouldn’t be hers now. Not because it was an antique piano, but because of the time it took him to bring it back to life. When he said, “Yes, of course it is yours.” She was surprised by the love of those hours. It remains with her today.
winter through window
gold sunlight gleams in wood grain
warming to the touch
©Ali Grimshaw 2021 Haibun Monday at dVerse - Join us.
Alongside the Tent – poem by Ali Grimshaw
My bare feet travel riverside down the dust talcum path. They feel the way forward while softly grounded in the fine dirt. As the bank of trees lean to shade, the river glides past, over and around rocks. Here it seems effortless for lives of birds, fish and plants to thrive together. None needing to shame or blame. Is it just my interpretation or have the living of the river ecosystem always known that there is enough for all, that everyone’s time will someday pass, that we will someday be nourishment for the next in line and there is peace in the acceptance of being a part of the changing cycle? There seems to be balance here. The kind of balance I am always seeking. As I hike up the pants, I have yet to grow into, I wonder if humans really are the more evolved species. It seems that I have so much to learn from the Osprey’s willingness to try again and the way rivers shift course without blaming the logs that have fallen to block their route. As I pack up my tent site I am already planning my return.
The river knows flow transforming place without shame forgiving teacher © Ali Grimshaw 2020 Haibun Monday, 8/31/20:Take a Hike! Join in the sharing at dVerse Poet's Pub.
What has yet to Appear – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
We are balancing between the blocks of our days large and small. Squares filled with the demands of our days and squares now left open. Boxes where plans once sat in happy company with future anticipation. Now canceled without pattern. Just scattered openings in the grid. Emptiness at first look, then disbelief. As we walk farther down the street, grief standing next to disappointment. Finally we turn the corner and see a tiny new patio garden. Someone is intent on growing beauty from strong willed, concrete pots. The first sprouts are just reaching free.
Determined seeds rise
there is always a crack, wide
enough for thriving
This Haibun Monday over at dVerse Poets Pub we have a visual prompt. It was an new adventure for me. Click here to join the challenge.