The Best Haiku Anthology international competition awards $330 USD and is sponsored and judged by the team at Haiku Crush. The 2025 submission window opens on World Ocean Day on June 8th. All forms of traditional and modern haiku are accepted in this search to publish the best.
Zephyr morning stillness rhythmic movement zephyr and leaf
Leaf-whistles Needles oscillate Psithuric wind song
Trees shimmer Yawning deeply Anticipation stirs
long-awaited hues brilliant, buff, earthy wind song
long-awaited brilliant colors fleeting
burnt, buff, earthy, ushering in sienna hues, autumn's display
1. Magnolia Blossom elegant folds beautiful and simplistic cradling life
2. Captivated sense of errantry a whispered psithurism, she catches her breath
3. Zephyr morning stillness rhythmic movement zephyr and leaf
4. Mångata sea of midnight blue whimsical images skirt Mångata pathways submitted June 8, 2025
aureate
honeyed, tawny, burnt
Autumn's play
psithurism reeds sing in the wind howling change
a gentle psithurism passes through, catching her breathe
Captivated sense of errantry a whispered psithurism she catches her breath
a sea of midnight blue whimsical images skirt along Mangata pathways
night recedes behind the stars- no thought to pending troubles tomorrow sleeps
Evening's warm hues cast a spell of tranquility
a songless world yearns for echoes of a promised aria
Morning stillness Rhythmic movement Zephyr and leaf
life lives on in bifurcating branches of generational rings
leaf-whistles, needles oscillate in a psithurism wind
misty, moisty morning hovering fog clouds kissing the dew
Seasonal Rhythms Autumn falls silent under the evening snow Sheltered seeds don winter’s coat below Spring buds pop their heads, winter snaps not yet March winds howl for spring’s warmth Worm Moon signals the nightcrawlers to rise Daylight and darkness reach duality Equilux achieved, permafrost relents Sleepy pods shed winter’s dark cloak Pollinizers emit an earthy scent Spring pollinators take flight Sunrays titillate Terra’s loam Touching life’s impetus
Winter’s Lace
Vibrant winter blooms cast against a snowy canvas, beneath brooding skies
First snow, falling softly, Amaryllis’ view from the window, warm thoughts.
A little ray of sunshine, that banishes winter blues— Winter jasmine.
wrapped by clouded storms, dark tornadoes, the March winds rumble
nature’s beauty shines from the eyes of the beholder beware of black bears
wintry winds whistling a graceful genuflection, mid-winter dance
the morning light hums dreams prance in dawn's shadow, the young at-heart dream
Death and Dementia
Fear and darkness abide side-by-side, hiding the old crone of despair. Cohorts of hatred entrench themselves against the light. Incoherent thoughts rattle the brain, searing the heart. Stirred agitation summons dementia.
Death grins from the abyss, as the human soul withers. Yet, darkness recoils at the light. The old crone flees, abandoning despair. Defeated, Death returns to the abyss.
Light dispells darkness. Love’s glow sparkes hope. Life embraces the soul.
Winter folds a tree-- into a counterfeit death gray, bony, lifeless. Better than Starbucks, February 2022 Publication p. 41
Imagine
Sitting on the back porch swing, high in the Ozark Mountains, I feel the last remnants of the cool morning breeze wafting in. The deciduous trees that blanket the rolling hills vibrate with vibrant colors. White clouds hang in the pale blue sky, hinting at rain in their underbelly.
Tree limbs sway gently in the wind, and leaves rustle momentarily before falling silent. A red-headed woodpecker glides past, wings outstretched as it easily navigates the air currents. With slight turns among the branches, it soon disappears.
Birds sing their early morning melodies, hidden from sight. From the clouds above, shaded areas dot the mountainside, providing a cool retreat from the day’s heat. As nature dances in the wind, life thrives in the warmth of the sunlight.
Yet, amidst this bountiful backdrop of life stands a stark contrast: a giant dead stick, gray, bony, and lifeless. Its haggard branches extend outward, out of place, and exposed. This lifeless form yearns for the cloak of winter, embodying a facade of counterfeit sleep.
Winter’s Deep Sleep
winter's shield hoarfrost, snow blanket survive or succumb
silence broken winter creaks lost footfalls
relentless onslaught freezing, thawing, footfalls of a screed heart
[relentless onslaught of a screed heart freezing, thawing, lost]
safely tucked under subnivean snow, revealing rain
snow falling lightly
dreams prance on silver moonbeams, nestled deep, all sleep
Night Treasures
the night sky frolics under silvery moonbeams in stillness, dreams come
dancing in joyous leaps, dreams skate on imaginative trails, hidden sky treasures
night recedes behind the stars no thought to pending troubles, tomorrow sleeps
wintry winds whistling a graceful genuflection, mid-winter dance
Winter Solstice
motionless sun the darkest moment light breaks through
climactic pause night tide meets at Winter's gate light concatenates
the sun stands still, a brief magical moment winter begins
Psithurism Wind
burnt, buff, earthy, ushering in sienna hues, autumn's display
a shimmering dance a seasonal rain blurred lines
tree whispers back-porch sharing changing seasons
leaf-whistles, needles oscillate in a psithurism wind
wintry winds whistling a graceful genuflection, Autumn's last dance
Eventide falls on one mountain range as dawn rises on another.
Apposite
morning’s blush slips through the mizzling mist
The Troubadour's Song
As Judas, in his willful rejection, walked daily beside Jesus, a contrasting hope was about to be born. Judas’ callous heart longed for an earthly king, which led to betrayal with a sealed traitorous kiss.
Blind ignorance prevailed. The Pharisees denied their Messiah, and Jerusalem cried out, unable to see.
A despairing loss, overcome by fear, caused hope to flee. Peter denied Him. Overwhelming grief filled John. He could not contain his tears as his Messiah died. Dementia cried out. Darkness enveloped the cross as death’s grip shook the earth.
We, too, walk daily beside the true Messiah, unmoved by the truth and unable to see the light of hope.
With a heightened sense of loss and impending danger, man’s despair descended to hell’s depths. Their dreams captured by death, nailed to an old wooden beam. A tragic story with an untold ending.
Yet,
The morning light hummed with renewed hope. The eternal, wrapped in clay, set Terra free. The Troubadour sang, illuminating the darkness with the song of salvation.
A dream no longer, the day wakes with understanding. His message rang true: a gift of grace freely given.
The church’s song is the gospel story of God’s eternal plan. When the harvest is complete, marking the end of the church age, Israel will again have a hand in redeeming man.
IF
A question, If rain no longer fell, would tears cease to flow? If blue dropped from the sky, would a smile return? If darkness engulfs the world, would light find its way? If longing is understood, would yearning fade? If sadness disappeared, would you be free?
An Answer Rev. 21:4 I will dry your eyes; I am the world's light. Isaiah 41:13 I will help you when cannot cope. God will carry you in His hand. Ps 119:105 Your word will guide my feet and light my way. Eph 6:11 Armor up, God will stand by your side. Ex 14:14 I will fight your fight. Deut. 31:6 I will hold you tight; you belong to Me Ps 56:8 I have bottled all your tears. You are free.
An Epic Event
Snow blanketed the landscape with deep, powdery white flakes. This was not the typical crusty flurries that barely make a snowman, but perfectly delicate snow so fluffy and light that it beckoned you to step out and play. Icicles hung in a row across the roof. The trepidation about a significant winter event melted away by a sense of wonder at the beauty of this rare snowfall.
Birds swirled and swooped, forming a collective. A round of robins landed in the backyard. An echo of mockingbirds congregate on the limbs of an old River Birch tree out front. A conclave of cardinals sat along the fence row, as a cloud of blackbirds landed in the trees behind the fence.
It was this sight that piqued my curiosity—birds gathering in unusual clusters. Yet, they seemed to be ignoring the scattered birdseed. Why? The ground was covered in snow and devoid of food. It was as unusual as a fifteen-inch snowfall for hungry birds not to eat. This was fascinating to watch. Clueless as to why the birds waited, the answer came suddenly.
A robin swooped in to catch a water droplet from an icicle in mid-flight. Adding to the intrigue, other birds joined in.
With their usual water sources frozen, birds migrated in flocks, searching for water. As I filled water trays and scattered them around the yard, I saw a bigger picture of nature's workings. A simple solution to the problem was provided. Still, it was a rare moment to witness the shared struggle for survival in the face of adversity. The birds drank, ate, and then disappeared.
Though clueless, God was not. Seeing a bird catching a water droplet in mid-air was fantastic and incredible. But more importantly, it was my clue to see an epic event. Cold, still, frosty white
The glistening sun stirs, icicle droplets drip amid a frozen field.
Winter’s fountain flowing freely, ready for an acrobatic display; cardinals drink mid-stream.
The sky looks down with the dark eye of a new moon; spring buds pop their heads. Winter snaps, not yet. March Moons howl for seasonal winds that breathe change. Terrestrial tides collide, and winter gives way. Sun and moon stand poised.
Worm Moon signals the nightcrawlers to rise and stir the loam, breaking free of the frozen dirt. Spring Moon stirs the sleepy pods to shed winter's coats and stretch their fertile roots. The Sugar Moon coaxes the sweet maples to release their sugary sap.
Permafrost relents. Skywatchers eagerly anticipate the moons of March.
A morrowless day arriving on the equinox perfectly balanced.
Permafrost relents. Skywatchers anticipate the moons of March.
Our theme next week for TTT is spring.
80 words max, metaphorical, imagistic, inventive, quirky, unexpected. Words to avoid: bulb, growth, shoots, buds, earth, green, soil, new, life, leaf, light
Feb 28 Moon Theme (90) Free verse by rbrontebrown
With a crescent wink and radiating argent hues, the night sky wakes. Tomorrow sleeps while silver beams thread through the darkness, inviting whimsy to skate on imaginative trails. Dreams dance.
Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow, a small step etched with sandy footprints. Chimerical images skirt golden pathways across a sea of midnight blue. From Ganymede's summit, a breathtaking view is suspended momentarily.
Laced with ice feathers, dreams frolic on through the night sky, searching for sky treasures. Stories lie quiet in star streams as wide-eyed tales fill the mind's eye. Tomorrow wakes.
dreams dance on silvery moonbeams, tomorrow sleeps
Write a moon poem without using the word ‘moon’ or ‘lunar’. Make it new and really focus on an alternate take. Preferably write a poem about other moons in the Solar system other than our own. Imagistic, metaphorical & 90 words max. No tired descriptions.
a sea of midnight blue Quixotic images skirts golden pathways
March 4: Our theme is ‘otherworldly’ in the cosmic sense. Excluding our planet and moon, write a poem about other planets or stars, galaxies, black holes, quasars, etc.
Revision for March Hawk Press The Dawn Before Time
There was darkness with no night and a universe without no a view. As God's spirit hovered over the vast waters, He spoke a contemplative word with a quiet breath. Energy rippled, light separated from darkness, and a new dawn broke.
Free and unfettered, the universe unfolded, showering waves of thunderous speech and radiating liquid sunshine. The intricate interplay of a cosmic dance began.
Light erupted, and a cascade of stars swept around Orion's belt. Sol joined the celestial cadence, defining the rhythm of night and day.
The tangible universe, spoken into existence, was designed to fit into a unique space with a specific purpose for sustaining life.
The scintillating rays of the solstice stretched summer's boundaries as nightide catenates. In a fleeting moment, poised for a return, light converged at winter's gate. Concatenation linking the coming spring.
Envisioning a never-before-seen ribbon of time, the universe whispered its story.
March 4: Otherworldly
Darkness without night, a time with no view, quiet and contemplative breath, a word is spoken. A ripple of energy swirls and twirls; light breaks a new dawn.
Free and unfettered, the universe releases showers of thunderous speech, oozing liquid sunshine. The tug-a-war begins.
Light bursts forth, raining stars stream around Orion's belt. Sol joins the dance, separating night and day, laying its boundaries.
Speaking creation into existence, His spirit moves. His hand touches the tangible. Designed to fit into a unique space with a unique purpose.
Solstice's scintillating rays stretch summer's boundaries as nightide catenates. Midwinter, in a brief magical moment, light concatenates at winter's gate. [in a fleeting magical moment light converges at winter's gate to stretch the days again.]
Imagining a never-seen ribbon of time- the universe whispers its story.
Psalms 139:12 and Genesis 1:1-3
From TopTweetTuesday: Strong start on the WIP. Have a go at surprising similes / metaphors within your descriptiveness, a couple of lesser known words. Dramatic sound patterning! Max out the invention!
Molecules and particles testing each other, establishing sanditon boundaries.
Sandillion is an old way to quantify something as numerous as grains of sand; Sanditon establishing boundaries, particles and molecules.
[From TopTuesday: Strong start on the WIP. Have a go at surprising similes / metaphors within your descriptiveness, a couple of lesser known words. Dramatic sound patterning! Max out the invention!]
My ideas: Speaking creation into existence, His spirit moves. His hand touches the tangible. Designed to fit into a unique space with a unique purpose.
love expressed. The iridescent threads of our lives are not random. Dream of what my purpose may be. Only God can settle the restless soul. I am made for another world. One where God is present. A word, a breath, a seeded thought... "a dream- a visionary creation of imagination, a desired goal, "
Our theme next week for TTT is spring.
80 words max, metaphorical, imagistic, inventive, quirky, unexpected. No cliches and break out of your style and usual tropes.
Words to avoid: bulb, growth, shoots, buds, earth, green, soil, new, life, leaf, light
Zephyr carries the seeds. Loam provides for their needs. Clouds water fertile dirt. Bouquets rise from the Earth.
Our challenge for next week - 18th March.
Write a poem about an emotion or state of mind without ever naming it, i.e. purely through metaphor.
99 words max. Imagistic
February 13 Spring Haibun by rbrontebrown Good morning, Sunshine. Stretching through morning’s dew, the sunlight cracks at dawn. Nestlings fluff their feathers and squish together to listen to their twitter-song.
The red-breasted robins engage in antiphonal tweets. Jenny-wren adds her chee-pippety-chee-chee as colorful warblers chime-in. A cacophony echoes in dewy twilight.
Goose pimples giggle as my toes squish in the tender grass. A cool zephyr breeze flows, inviting the day to begin. Butterflies dance atop neighboring blooms, suddenly-
a Blue-jay catcall! Signals a tail-twitching taunt, kitty in the weeds.
Winter howls at Spring like a middle schooler's biological clock clanks. "It's too early," Winter yawns. "Autumn has arrived in the southern hemisphere," says Spring. "Not yet." Winter flops back, adding another blanket of snow.
"The Cold Moon will be full soon," says Spring, offering Winter an enticement. Spring knows Winter loves to hang out with Cold Moon on the longest night of the inverted season.
"Okay, I'm up." Winter sits very still, blowing another chilly breeze. "Come along," says Blizzard. Winter stands and stretches. "I see you've been at work- a resplendent day in pastel hues," Winter says to Spring. "Thank you, Winter." Winter bows, whispering, "See you next year."
Spring smiles, turning to the Sun, "It's time to melt the crusty earth and direct your rays to tickle the fertile dirt." "As you wish," replies Sun.
Spring Sings! "Zephyr, carry the seeds far and wide. Loam provides for their needs. Seeds shed those winter coats. Nightcrawlers dig underground moats. Clouds let loose a well-spring of showers as spring ushers in meadows of flowers. A morrowless day arrives on the equinox, perfectly balanced.
The first time I ever saw a dead body was in the woods. Uncle Rufus open coffin sat where the porch swing once hung. The rusted ceiling bolts reminded me of what once was. That old dingy porch framed a poignant image. Unintentionally, I took a mental snapshot. I stood and stared at death barring the doorway entrance. The splattered sunlight melded with the shadows. The white wood planks faded into the background as if engulfed in sadness. The inner light was gone. Only a shell remained. Nature reclaims what it intends. Yet, life lives on where memories flow like a sweet bension between the falling rain--
quiescent tide, the porch-swing rhythmic pace- tealights fade
faded white wood planks engulfed in quamoclit, a reclaimed quiescent
Feb 5 Moraine weathered beauties moraine remains, jumbled genesis
His arms wrapped around her tight and covered her with prayers at night.
The gentle art of letting go, unchained love freely flows.
A restful peace seals their bond, responding in trust; the two heartbeats become one.
This is what women want: to know they are protected, loved, provided for, and safe as they care for their families. And yes, women want to work, be heard, and be understood, but to arrest fears- understand the words above. Arguing with your husband when he wraps you in prayer is hard.
tickled pink sun's in-sync rising star
The Saguaro cactus survives int the Sonoran Desert and is an important ecological pollen trail for the lesser long-nosed bat. The Saguaro Cactus releases its scented flower to attract this tiny bat. Leptos bats fly at night by scented highways, which is time for their migration. Enticed by this heavily scented trail, this bat hunts by smell and sight. The cactus flower glistens in the moonlight like a beacon. Mutual survival, ecosystem sustainers, man, the land, and bat survive.
Nature’s pollen connector Saguaro Cactus
Leptos bats fly at night, guided by scented highways. timed for their migration.
Flower-powered highways, bats follow the nectar trail, and hunt by smell and sight.
Mutual survival Ecosystem sustainers Man, land, and the bat.
Leptos is a nickname for the lesser long-nosed bat.
seismic shift of public opinion, winning avalanche Feb 8 Avalanche
Feb 10 Peak Pistol Pete 44.2 points per game LSU career peak
Pete Maravich set an NCAA record that holds true for today. The assembly center at LSU is now called the Pete Maravich Assembly Center (PMAC) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
Feb 17 Serac towering serac between two crevasses artful deception
Ice towers built on deceit will crumble
Meat for Tea Review submission
Silky smooth glacier Shimmering ice sheets what lies beneath Feb 7 Glacier
life is a vapor but it leaves a trail, sweet and memorable
Andes' biodiversity tropical, arid, wet, life choices.
Adaptability is key to finding your fit. Feb 9 NaHaiWriMo
Pinnacle Mountain stair steps to slipper boulders not for novice hikers
Pinnacle Mountain is the second-highest natural point in Pulaski County, Arkansas.
elegant skier vs a flailing flier my mind's eye lies Feb 16 skier
the night sky frolics under silvery moonbeams in stillness, tomorrow sleeps or dreams dance on silvery moonbeams, tomorrow sleeps
complementary one out shines the other or muted a blend.
packed piste slick and black any green slopes February 12 piste
eventide falls on one mountain range as dawn rises on another
Alpine butterfly- climbing, connecting, creating attachments, loop to loop
Pale Season of Titivated Lace (rewrite of Winter’s Lace)
Vibrant blooms ignite against a blank canvas under brooding, iron-gray skies.
Amaryllis gazes out from the window; a periwinkle winks back, whisper-warm.
Across a stark alabaster landscape, autumn falls silent while pansies thrive.
Bleak, bitter, yet, in defiance, Narcissus lifts its radiant face for all to see.
A little ray of sunshine, burnishing a crepuscular glow, Wendy’s Gold rises.
Lucille’s Squill’s whimsical scent swirls with the turning season.
Write an imaginative landscape poem without using snow, snowy or wintry terms.
a brief magic moment nighttide meets at winter's gate light concatenates
#haiku #HaikuSaturday #haikuseed
A magical moment, the sun stands still- winter begins -
with a brisk, cold chill. #haikusaturday #poems
Christmas Eve Night Prelude to a noiseless world Daybreak the fun begins
Wintry winds whistling Autumn's last dance- a graceful genuflection #haiku #HaikuSaturday
In sparkled light, night recedes behind the stars tomorrow sleeps, harboring dreams once ours. or On silvery threads, dreams dance with joyous leaps. Dreams dancing on silvery threads are for keeps.
Imaginative Sheer trails appear laced with ice feathers, Puck's in the wind searching for sky treasures.
Tiered January sky, nothing leaves a mark. Eagles hitch a ride, ready to embark.
More verses: WIP
Imaginative Imaginative trails appear laced with ice feathers, Puck's in the wind searching for sky treasures.
Sheer January sky, nothing leaves a mark. Eagles hitch a ride, ready to embark.
In sparkled light, night recedes, tomorrow sleeps
Dreams dance on silvery moonbeams while tomorrow sleeps.
Molecules and particles testing each other, establishing sanditon boundaries.
Sandillion is an old way to quantify something as numerous as grains of sand.
Sarah and Hagar Twelve sons from each A Lion and a wild donkey, battle for supremacy in the Middle East
Sandillion boundaries seismic shifting, waiting to erupt, in the Middle East, Russia and Ukraine.
The bad and the ugly of Territorial boundaries, where is the good?
Molecules and particles testing each other, establishing sanditon boundaries.
Sandillion is an old way to quantify something as numerous as grains of sand; Sanditon establishing boundaries, particles and molecules.
In sparkled light, night recedes behind the stars tomorrow sleeps, harboring dreams once ours.
In sparkled light, night recedes- tomorrow sleeps
Dreams dancing on silvery threads are for keeps. Short form:
Night recedes in dancing dreams, tomorrow sleeps in sparkled light.
(WIP) #HaikuSaturday Show more
original the night sky frolics under silvery moonbeams in stillness, dreams come.
dreams dance in joyous leaps, skating on imaginative trails, night treasures.
night recedes behind the stars- no thought to pending troubles, tomorrow sleeps. ---- the night sky frolics under silvery moonbeams in stillness,
dreams dance on silvery moonbeams, tomorrow sleeps-
seasonal leaves grounding roots, true friends- the rings inside
As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, sheltered seeds don winter's coat below. Sleeping silently beneath winter's breath, trees fold into a counterfeit death.
A magical moment when the sun stands still, winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.
Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies, glistens frosty precip amenities. Amidst frigid fields, icicles drip. Cardinals swoop midstream for a sip.
Mice tucked warmly under subnivean snow, moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau. Betwixt two of astral stars, the moon hangs bright, eerie wolf howls echo through the night.
Playful trickery, a spring bud pops its head. Winter snaps and tucks it back to bed.
Emmanuel is born to the Father's delight - Israel's long awaited hope. The Word sang a poignant story, a pure melody.
It was a melodious tune for those with a heart to hear. The whispered melody arrived as soft as the tiny beats of hummingbird wings.
The dawning light of a new beginning altered our precepts, arousing a sanguine hope in a song-less world.
The morning light hummed as angels sang the Troubadour's song of man's redemptive story.
Picture & Poem by rbrontebrown
WIP Emmanuel was born to the Father's delight. Israel’s long-awaited hope. The Word reveal its melody.
It was a soft, melodious tune for those with hearts to hear. Its whispered melody arrived as soft as the tiny beats of a hummingbird’s wing.
(Wip) It was a soft, melodious tune for those with hearts to hear. Its psithuric melody whispered softly as whispered wings.
The dawn of a new beginning altered our precepts, arousing a sanguine hope in a songless world.
The morning light hummed. Angel marveled. the Troubadour arrived. of man's redemptive story.
Haiku version
Anticipation, to the Father's delight, Emmanuel is born
The dawning light of a new beginning slates our thirst.
Arousing a sanguine hope for the coming year.
A salubrious optimism laced with intent, tempered.
Suffering: Fear and darkness abide side-by-side, hiding the old crone of despair.
Cohorts of hatred entrench themselves against the light.
Incoherent thoughts rattle the brain, searing the heart.
Death grins from the abyss, as the human soul withers.
Yet, darkness recoils at the light.
The old crone flees, abandoning despair.
Defeated, Death returns to the abyss.
Light enters, dispelling darkness.
Love’s glow lights the way, sparking hope.
Life, light, and love embrace the soul.
What specific events or experiences led to the presence of fear and darkness?
How can love specifically counteract despair and the influence of death?
What does the journey from darkness to light look like for those who struggle with despair?
Drugs and confusion act as cohorts. summoning dementia to rattle the brain, Stirring perturbation pərdərˈbāSH(ə)n/, darkness settles in. Darkness cannot extinguish light. shrinks away [recoils/ flees]from light. The old crone gags (gags) in despair
A dawning light hums, the eternal once wrapped in clay, has set Terra free. (resurrection)
The Troubadour sings, illuminating darkness with salvation's song,
His message rings true. A gift of grace freely given honoring choice.
The song of the church is the gospel story of God's eternal plan.
The harvest complete, the church caught up, Israel will once again have a hand in redeeming Man.
Santa's toys And Christmas morn can Never replace Thankful hearts And God's grace #AcrosticAdvent #AcrosticAdventChallenge #poetry #acrosticpoem #Santa #WinterIce
Anticipation. To the Father's delight, Emmanuel was born
The Eastern Star shone through the night illuminating the way.
The Word sang a melody for my heart to hear, poignant and pure.
For those with ears to hear, it was soft and gentle.
Akin to the beats of hummingbird wings, arrived a whispered message.
A songless world yearned for echos of the Troubadour’s aria.
Prophecies of old fulfilled, arousing a sanguine hope, for redeeming mankind.
An Angel announced the King's arrival. He dwelt with us.
The dawning light of a new beginning slates our thirst.
As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, sheltered seeds don winter's coat below. Sleeping silently beneath winter's breath, trees fold into a counterfeit death.
A magical moment when the sun stands still, winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.
Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies, glistens frosty precip amenities. Amidst frigid fields, icicles drip. Cardinals swoop midstream for a sip.
Mice tucked warmly under subnivean snow, moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau. Betwixt two of astral stars,the moon hangs bright, eerie wolf howls echo through the night.
Playful trickery as spring buds pop their head. Winter snaps, not yet, and tucks them back in bed.
[rhythmic and end rhyme]
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Rhythmic and end rhyme Wintry Threnodies As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, sheltered seeds don winter's coat below. Trees fold into a counterfeit death sleeping silently amidst winter's breath.
A magical moment, the sun stands still- winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.
Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies, glistening frosty precip amenities. Amid a frozen field, icicles drip. Cardinals swoop mid-stream for a sip.
Between two stars, the moon hangs bright, wolf howls echo through the night. Mice tucked warmly under a subnivean snow, moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau.
February trickery, spring buds pop their head, Winter snaps- not yet, and puts them back to bed.
wintry winds whistling a graceful genuflection, Autumn's last dance-
climactic moment nightide meets at Winter's gate light concatenates
The first time I saw a dead body was in the woods. Uncle Rufus open coffin sat where the porch swing once hung. The rusted ceiling bolts reminded me of what once was. That old dingy porch framed a poignant image. Unintentionally, I took a mental snapshot. I stood and stared. Death barred the doorway entrance. The splattered sunlight melded with the shadows. The white wood planks faded into the background as if engulfed in sadness. The inner light was gone. Only a shell remained. Nature reclaims what it intends. Yet, life lives on where memories flow like a sweet bension between the falling rain--
quiescent tide, the porch-swing rhythmic pace- tealights fade --
First Encounters First Encounters
The first time I ever saw a dead body was in the woods. The open coffin sat where the porch swing once hung. The rusted ceiling bolts served as a reminder of what once was. The porch framed a poignant image. I took a mental snapshot unintentionally.
I stood and stared. Death barred the doorway entrance as the splattered sunlight melded into the shadows. The white wood planks faded into the background, engulfed in the past. The inner light was gone. Only the shell remained. Nature reclaims what it intends to, sending life's events to where memories flow.
As we headed southeast from Memphis, Tennessee that morning, I had no idea what a funeral entailed. The paved roads gave way to winding backroads layered with gravel and dust. Hours stretch as time slows its pace. You weren’t allowed to ask, “Are we there, yet?”
After a few wrong turns, my aunt remembered the landmark and turned toward our destination. Traveling the backroads of the Mississippi hill country was not meant for newcomers. Country folks have no need for road signs. They get by with a few landmarks and directions as the crow flies.
Great Uncle Rufus was my Papaw's brother. I noted the same pointy nose as mine. Milling about, I listened to whispered stories: sad, funny; yarns and tall tales. Still, people act odd in the presence of death standing on the doorstep. Some ignore the open coffin and pass through the doorway. Some, like me, keep their distance.
Cousins departed for the clearing. Blue sky peeked through the trees, and sunlight warmed our insides. Time giggled along with us as we told our stories. Death remained on the porch which was comforting for a nine-year-old.
From a mischievous twinkle to the shape of a nose to a familiar gait, the past is intertwined with the future. Lessons taught, lessons learned, favorite recipes, a hand--me--down quilt, family stories, and my family nose. Everyday routines are instilled and handed down to the next generation.
faded white wood planks engulfed in quamoclit, a reclaimed quiescent
Slowly evanescing time spins memories of you
mental snapshot framed a poignant image old dingy porch
Haiku format:
Faded white wood planks engulfed in quamoclit, a reclaimed quiescent
Rusted ceiling bolts serve as a reminder of the porch swing
Now, the open coffin sits. Sending life's events to where memories flow.
The inner light gone reclaimed by nature, only the shell remains.
YET> Past lives on in family stories, recipes, my nose- as treasured memories.
I was nine years old This is my story - retold.
a prismatic wash in a golden mist- a sweet bension between the falling rain.
Faded white wood planks
engulfed in quamoclit,
reclaimed quiescent
The first time I saw a dead body was in the woods. The open coffin sat where the porch swing once hung. The rusted ceiling bolts served as a reminder of what once was. That old dingy porch framed a poignant image. Unintentionally, I took a mental snapshot.
I stood and stared. Death barred the doorway entrance. The splattered sunlight melded with the shadows. The white wood planks faded into the background as if engulfed in sadness. The inner light was gone. Only a shell remained. Nature reclaims what it intends to, sending life's events to where memories flow.
Haiku format:
Faded white wood planks
engulfed in quamoclit,
quiescent and quaint.
Rusted ceiling bolts
serve as a reminder
of the old porch swing
Now, the open coffin sits.
Sending life's events
to where memories flow.
The inner light gone
reclaimed by nature,
only the shell remains.
YET>
Past lives on in
family stories, recipes, my nose-
and treasured memories.
I was nine years old
This is my story -
retold.
Snow blanketed the landscape with deep, powdery white flakes. This was not the typical crusty flurries that barely make a snowman, but perfectly delicate snow so fluffy and light that it beckoned you to step out and play. The trepidation about a significant winter event melted away by a sense of wonder at the beauty of this rare snowfall. The air was filled with the crisp scent of fresh snow.
Birds swirled and swooped, forming a collective. A round of robins landed in the backyard. An echo of mockingbirds congregate on the limbs of an old River Birch tree out front. A conclave of cardinals sat along the fence row, as a cloud of blackbirds landed in the trees behind the fence.
It was a sight that piqued my curiosity- birds gathering in unusual clusters. Yet, they seemed to be ignoring the scattered birdseed. Why? The snow-covered ground was devoid of food, a rare sight indeed. It was as unusual as a fifteen-inch snowfall for hungry birds not to eat. This was fascinating to watch. Clueless as to why the birds waited, the answer came suddenly.
From the window, I watch a robin swoop in to catch a water droplet from an icicle in mid-flight. The birds were thirsty.
With their usual water sources frozen, birds migrated in flocks, searching for water. As I filled water trays and scattered them around the yard, I saw a bigger picture of nature’s workings. A simple solution to the problem was provided. Still, it was a rare moment to witness the shared struggle for survival in the face of adversity. The birds drank, ate, and then disappeared.
Even though I was clueless at first, God was not. Seeing a bird catch a water droplet in mid-air was fantastic and incredible. But more importantly, it was my clue to see the bigger picture.
Still, cold, frozen white icicle glistening.
Droplets drip amid a frozen field, Nature’s water fountain.
brontebrown2 
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