April 3: The Carbon River (a pair of haiku)

 The Carbon River

From a bridge high up,
The river rushing below
Whispers up at me.

© by  Tom King

 

The Bridge Above

 

From the canyon floor,

The voice of the river

Rises toward sky. 

© by Tom King

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 4: Companions (a haiku)

 

 

Companions

Two at the window
Companions watching the raccoons,
Wrestle on the lawn.

© by Tom King

 

April 2: Volcano in the Neighborhood (a haiku)

 

 Volcano in the Neighborhood

O'er the misty reach
The Mountain throws mushroom clouds.
Above ash and snow

© 2023 by Tom King

 

 

April 1: Earthrise (Entry 1 in the 2023 Haiku Challenge)

Earthrise

A quarter million
Miles away, home arises
Blue and green - peaceful.


© 2023 by Tom King

 

 

 

I Celebrate Christmas

I Celebrate Christmas.

My brother died the day after Christmas.

My son died after one of the best Christmas’s we’d ever had.

I’ve been poor at Christmas

Celebrated with few of the trimmings

I’ve been well off and enjoyed the fatness of the season.

I have seen great kindness.

I have seen appalling greed and selfishness.

I have given to others.

I have received when I could not give.

I Celebrate Christmas.

I am amazed at the tenacity of man.

He longs for peace on Earth.

He wishes all “Good will toward men,”

Though the world seems quite bereft of good will these days.

We sing the season in.

We sing the season out.

We even hum the odd carol in summer

When our hearts want cooled and soothed.

A little “Jingle Bells” has magic even then.

I Celebrate Christmas.

I put up the tree to drape with tinsel.

I string the lights upon the house,

So my neighbors will see them and maybe smile.

I drink the celebratory eggnog with my daughter.

The only one of my kids who likes the stuff.

I make cookies, adopt homeless fruitcakes and batches of fudge.

I have my red elf’s hat. My hair and beard are white.

I know it’s a game and Jesus wasn’t born December 25.

But still I choose to be happy this time of year.

I Celebrate Christmas.

© 2012 Tom King

My Golden Heart (a guest poem by my sister)

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Golden Heart

We sit in grief this night with our sweet Huckleberry boy;
Watch his body rise and fall with peaceful, gentle breaths.
In deep sleep he wags his tail and chases rabbits still,
This dog of ours has brought with him so much happiness,
And he will go and leave us with lovely memories.

In such sacred times I think on things like virtues most hold true;
Our love for children and God’s creatures and all the elders too,
Laughter, love and kindness, empathy, and honesty for sure;
Admiration for the deeply challenged few
Who do not subscribe to victimhood. 

Apart from these I do not see a point.
I weep in brokenness for distraction from my purpose
To love, to rise, to forgive all things with grace.
So, I’ll sage my home, cleanse my heart, confess my sins
And live my life in peace.

When demons come a knocking, they cannot enter here
Their boastful pride and hatred; their lies and judgement too.
For these are machinations of lesser gods who have no power in me.
They are not invited in you see; I have sacred work to do.

He is separating wheat from tares in fields stretched out before me.

I will not fret nor gather back the tares.
Huck will gently kiss my face and I will kiss his head
And wipe away my tears.
So, run to Bonnie; run to Dew; Molson is there too.
For there they wait in tall, soft grass just to love on you.

You remind me of these truths my friend, my golden heart.
Sleep well and deep. Sweet dreams tonight.
I’ll see you in the morning I am certain sure,
Thank you for the love you gave.
My darlin’, my Huckleberry boy.

© by Paula D. King

April 30: Seventh Summer, West Coast's Warming

 

 

 

Seventh Summer; West Coast's Warming

The drizzle ended early this year.
   In April when the showers come heaviest.
It's a seventh year and the sun is turned up high,
   The heat will lower the lakes not fill them.

In April when the showers come heaviest,
   But the rain doesn't come, so my bones don't hurt so much.
The heat will lower the lakes, rather than fill them.
   I will lower myself into a lawn chair in the sun.

But the rain doesn't come, so my bones don't hurt so much.
   There are perks to a west coast dry spell.
I will lower myself into a lawn chair in the sun.
   I appreciate the break from relentless drizzle.

There are perks to a west coast dry spell.
   It's a change I welcome. Hey, I'm from Texas.
I appreciate the break from relentless drizzle.
   Though it means I'll have to water the birds and plants.

It's a change I welcome. Hey I'm from Texas.
   Drought is what we do out on the edge of the prairie.
Though here it means I'll have to water the birds and plants,
   And feed extra peanuts to the squirrels and bunnies.

 © 2022 with Tom King