from temple hill, flat land to the horizon verdant with life.
The Green Lands [Haiku]
1
I I remember Spring: tight and tender buds, soon to blossom clouds -- low & swollen, & rain scent in the air
II I remember Summers: the season of freedom... and mosquitoes, but, also, fireflies exploration & calamine lotion
III I remember the Fall: harvest time Grain chaff in the air axle grease on the wind Canadian geese Honk-Honk-Honk-ing in wedge formation
IV
I remember winters:
snow days
snow drifts
the feel of the first morning
of the season in which
one woke up to a blanketing snow,
having gone to bed with
pathetic matted grass
It's dark. But the neon burns, and bright signs color the night, and that color shines against wet surfaces. The color seems to float, and when I walk past it shifts, morphs, and flows, becoming alive. And it -- those bright primary colors -- might just be creeping towards me like a killer kindergarten clown. I turn to see the colors swirling, swirling but not advancing. I stare into the color paisleys as they dance yin-yang do-si-do's around the puddle. I'm entranced & soothed, and no longer fear the colors will attack, turning me vibrant.
I sit within an empty cave. It's empty, that's for sure. It's dark, so dark that nothing shines. What sound is that? A purr? I'm in this cave, and not alone, but with what I can't say. It's in the back where it's jet black -- a predator? Or prey? I'm walking now; I don't dare run. the ground is all cockeyed with stalagmites and stalactites. I grope, in need of guide. And feeling through Stygian space, I bust open my head. Warm blood, I feel, run down my face. I'm squeezed by rising dread. I hear a squeak, a mouse strolls through; then silence is restored. If only my mind were so rid of its outsized horrors.