Scrubbing windows in
this empty winter house,
memories echo here,
music, laughter, tears -
let the blessed light in!
Bare old plum tree
through the bedroom window,
split so deep now --
will you bloom again?
Closing my eyes, I see
your spring blossoms, white petals
pirouetting down,
chickadees nesting in the hole
under your precarious branch --
the one my grandfather trimmed
and patched so many years ago
Late summer, mouth and
baskets full of yellow plums,
then copper and gold leaves
litter the ground, stars appear
like Christmas lights in your branches
One moonlit snowy
night, two fawns, two does appear;
ears upright, eyes bright,
standing beneath your branches -
I held my breath!
10 comments:
Such a beautiful tribute to a place that was a genuine home.
Dear marde--
This one is so very poignant--connecting your grief to the cycles of the tree's life.
My heart goes out to you to be leaving your 'homestead'. Our roots to place are far more vital than we acknowledge in this culture.
Blessings on your journey--
Out of the 45 odd "haikus" i've been through from OSI..yours is the one for me.
"stars appear
like Christmas lights in your branches"..that is pure genius.
I wish you well to your new house..may it become a Home sooner than you expect.God Bless.
Thank you to each of you! I have to tell you Sij, that it was my mother (a poet, and didn't know it!) who once described her pleasure at observing the trees outside her bedroom window -- something I was surprised to learn that we shared! -- and she described the stars this way - like christmas lights. I tucked it away in my memory, and was pleased when it came to mind and I could commit it to this poem. So her heart and attention live on through this memory and poem....
a plum tree blossoms
and something whispers a name
didn't it say marde
I believe your words pay tribute to your mother's genius of a poet.
Beautiful zoya! Thank you!
Oh, this is a lovely tribute to your long-time harbor. Lovely!
This is a wonderful poem saying everything. I remember the first time I ever entered that old house when i had first met you. The wood stove was burning and it was warm and cozy... now your fires burn elsewhere -- so many changes. I felt that grip at my heart reading this. Blessings, friend while you work this task.
Beautiful....
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