Redbird with the Rainy Days Blues

cardinal in rain



I watch you press
into a crook; dry
side of an Oak.

Crimson, you flit
into the rain
for morsels to eat.

Back you fly
up into branches,
wet and hanging.

To a nest
well hidden;
mother, chicks

Bored by days of rain.

* * *

Posted to dVerse Poets Pub for Quadrille Monday.  The key word is “rain.”


Haibun – Summer Curtailed


photo by Charley

It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.  Come and join in!

The afternoon thundering has begun.  Over a month and a half of washed-out summer.  Did I ever mention I work in education and this is the season in which educators recover their sanity?  No?  Well, I work in education, and my wife and I haven’t seen a day of activities that hasn’t been cut short, or completely rained out.  While we do have a bumper crop of mold and mildew on the back porch, the market for these two crops is rather low – supply exceeds demand.  We try, oh god, we try to work in recreation in slices.  But the weather is uncooperative, so it’s more slice and dice.  We have even seen the vultures standing on the banks of our pond, wings spread to dry.  They haven’t bothered getting into the water to wash off the offal, our summer faux monsoon showers seem to do the trick!

man in chair looks out
summer sun is false promise
must move or I’ll rust

Summer Haibun

Summer Rain

We started into spring with a full-blown drought.  As we neared the end of the school year I think we were something like nine inches shy of what’s considered normal here.  A couple of our mainline roads from the East coast to Orlando were often closed because of dangerously low visibility due to smoke.  But Florida is a funny beast.  Our rainy season generally begins around May 21st.  True to form this year, the rain rolled in… exactly on May 21st… and has only ceased for a few glorious days thus far.  As teachers, we look forward to summer.  If for no other reason than it’s when we get to turn our sprinkler system off.  This afternoon we have faced brooding skies, frog-drowning showers, and – in the near distance – the basso profundo of Thor’s hammer.

Disconcerting flash
Counting out to the rumble
Why aren’t birds hiding?


It’s Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub and Grace, behind the bar, has requested we write about summer.  As always, I’m certain I missed the prompt… by this much… but come join us for a summer write on a summer night!

Havoc Played On the Roses

Cat and Rain

Lucky Jack Watches the Storm (from /

The shrieking ghosts of rain
a-charging on beastly winds
rose unbidden
without hint

They raced
through our yard
– crossed the pond
with lightning jolt
Quick thump

Tree arms vainly attempt
to cover un-bowing heads.

Deep breath.

Rose light breaks through.

dVerse – Poets Pub
Quadrille #12
Bjorn, our host, invites us to write a Quadrille that somehow includes “…the word rose, a wonderful flower, but also a color, a name, a verb (both making something rosy, the past tense of rise). One of the most used (and misused words in poetry… Let’s see the world in rose-tinted glasses or bring forth the thorns…”.




Uhyou (Freezing Rain)

A fear deeper than the coming of a blizzard.  Immobility.  Loss of power – electricity.  Trees would come down.  Lines would be down.

The rain that freezes on contact.

Behind our house hung the muddle.  Electric power lines and telephone lines for several different houses all brought together on one pole.  Itself an amazement of “engineering.”  Four fully-grown trees bunched together, crocheted into the tangle.  Huge limbs intertwined with life-giving wires.

A sub-freezing drenching.

A crack.  A pop.  Darkness.  Thank God for cell phones.

Men, hard-weathered by years of this kind of work.  Eyes that had seen everything.  Each one, in essence, muttering something like, “What the hell…?”


Nature assaults here
too hard to run on glare ice
move south – ice in drinks

dVerse – Poets Pub Haibun Monday: 50 Shades of Rain
Okay, so I’m a day late….
The challenge is to write a hiabun on one of the fifty Japanese names for rain.
It sparked something this morning, so I followed the muse.