It’s the week after “opening day” and time to get out fishing. I never go on opening day, way too crowded, too many non-fishers making their only appearance of the year. Hey, not that I don’t like fishing with others but unless it’s in a canoe, or a boat, I’d rather not be within rod length of each other. Crossed and tangled lines, limited drift, poor etiquette, all sap the enjoyment from the outing. But this weekend? Time to wet a fly, see who,s coming to dinner…
Silver flashing streak
Headlights sweeping the meadow.
Coyote in the night
Bands of blue and purple,
Signs of winter’s brutal weather,
Have bruised the sky.
Tasting blood red, sweetness,
Seeing blue skin, bruising, crushing,
Grapes into wine.
Winter painting is always a challenge so most of this was done back in the studio. Colors can be a surprising thing in nature. The black roof that’s white in bright sunlight, this pool of water that is so cold it’s black. Sketch book and camera, back to warm truck, finish in studio. And here we are the end of March, into Spring, and the weather peeps are predicting snow.
Shattered windshield
shattered dreams of spring and…
Oh, spring morning frost
Waning moon, day star
Aging brother, bright sister
Spring morning wonder
Lone white heron loping
over winter’s blackcold water
on tai chi wings
Fox, foxy, sly dog
chasing prey through the night.
Youthful beauty take flight.
Sunlight dappled shade,
hidden still the fawn in the glade.
Laying so still.
Haiku Journey 