haiku 5 Apr 2018

Ruts through frozen mud
Shoots budding into Springtime’s thaw
Birds and beasts return

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

bovines and sheeps

Come outside my lovelies there's warm in the air and green tufts of life all around – everywhere! Our Massif of Yiptlong is coming alive with bees now emerging from their high-hung hives and birds now returning from their winter keeps and young being born to goats bovines and sheeps. Man Winter is crawling back into his cave, his white wispy beard and his long gnarled stave are dragging behind him for he's been left weak from making the landscape cold barren and bleak. The goddess of Springtime has taken his stead and soon to Man Summer she'll surely be wed and then we'll all bake under his restless eye that hangs in a tepid and sweltering sky. With thoughts of hot evenings and of hotter nights we turn our attention to conquering fright and vanquishing worry and hunger and pain and waking up from frigid slumber again the deep burning fires that keep our souls bright that wrap us in dazzling and near-blinding light. Air out the bed linens and sweep off the stair and weave a wee tulip up into your hair; rejoice at the coming of times filled with joy for each one among us – old young girl and boy.

​© americanifesto / 場黑麥

sewing her clover

There once was a goddess, the Maiden of Spring, who did a most curious and mischievous thing – she holed herself up in a dank sodden cave enraptured by a handsome, dastardly knave. He'd spied her when life was beginning to teem, out walking in snowbanks from which budded green, and trapped her with cunning and love's sweet promise without even gracing her lips with a kiss. Forthwith to his light-starved and troglodyte lair is where he then took her, the Maiden so fair, and fed her with roots that grew deep down below until field and mountain was covered in snow. Our heroine then yearned to make her escape, to see the broad sunlit vast upper landscapes; she slipped from the grasps of her erstwhile lover to walk in the snowy fields sewing clover. As soon as the hot sun and warm winds did blow she longed her dark paramour once more to know and crept without making e'en one undue sound back down to his hidey-hole far underground. It's there that she winters and shelters from Fall until she is tugged pulled compelled dragged and called once more to the surface her deeds there to do, to make life erupt again, verdant and new.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥