She’s heeeerrrre …
Autumnal equinox: the tipping point between two seasons of light.
Fall arrived on Saturday a little before 9 a.m. I thought it happened today because my calendar says so, but my calendar got it wrong. I wonder what else my calendar has gotten wrong.
For those of us who (like me) may feel the touch of melancholy this time of year but have the impulse to celebrate anyway, WIZ is opening a haiku chain. Many of you know what a haiku is–probably, you’ve know since elementary school or junior high. For those who feel uncertain, a haiku is a classical Japanese poetical form, usually 17 syllables all in a single line in Japanese, but there are longer and shorter forms. A haiku written in English stacks lines, often in the order of one short line of 5 syllables on top, a long line of 7 syllables in the middle, then another short line of 5 syllables on the bottom. But there are many paths–pick what suits you. Often, haiku mention the season under consideration. If you wish to learn more about haiku, you can go here or here.
How a WIZ haiku chain usually goes is this: Someone starts the chain. This year, that’s me. Somebody follows me, adding a single haiku in the comments, and then another person takes a crack, and ’round we go. You may link your haiku to an image in the previous haiku or stud the chain with something wholly original. I kind of like seeing other people’s individual expressions of how the arrival of this season strikes them. Other than the informal, €œone-at-a-time-please € tradition, there’s no limit to turns a participant can take and no deadline for this activity. It runs as long as it runs.
My opener:
Summer’s final words
rasp leaves, shimmer on the lip
of the horizon.
Go!
Horizons here are fickle,
fixed, and, like seasons and like script,
crescented crosswise and flipped.
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.
Crescented crosswise,
The wheat flipped through the chilling air.
The reaper moves on.
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crackle of corn stalks
soaring sky of wisping clouds
rain patters on leaves
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the night comes early
golden pumpkins fill our dreams
the brown trees sleep too
(by Virginia)
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Horses twitch, flick their tails
To whip away autumn’s last cloud of flies
Left by swallows gone south
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above the harvest
a gold thumbnail moon
tips to the west
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Or, riffing off Th.:
as the reaper moves on
a gold thumbnail moon
tips to the west
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windswept pond:
a willow searches
for its lost leaves
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One more:
from the oak’s shadows:
the crow’s lonely caw,
the shudder of leaves
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Spruce ignore the frost;
Gingko hands out golden coins:
Maples immolate.
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see the maples burning,
but they can not drive away
the chill and the frost
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rushing wind
rattling leaves
parking lot
pavement
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blinding white corn moon
drops silver grain to the ground
darkness to see by
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Burning shadows light
Pewter meadows–rabbits gorge:
Running come hunters.
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leaves blaze, fall
same old song says crow
kraa kraa kraa
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Amsterdam’s canals
Glitter in the growing dark,
Lights limning bridges.
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From sunlit tree limbs
A press ciders apples that
Taste of tart, brown, gold.
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At last cool atoms!
Steaming skin soothed/shed.
Now wait for hotness.
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Jigsaw winds piece leaves
from the oak canopy; feet
jumble fall’s tangrams.
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Wind rips tears from my
Eyes. Bike tires skid and crunch dry
Leaves. Cold skies darken.
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Sleep calls, but so does
Song. I fight the ice, give tongue, but
Fall is mightier.
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The Fall is mightier
than this two-edged doubled summer blade.
Autumn insists, regardless.
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Flown, swallows’ airy
geometrics. Hawks now spin
days in slow circles.
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Days in slow circles
Fall. They fall so slow, so slow.
Day after leaf.
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