unending heat and ill winds
weather-beaten forest leaves
and grass crumble if touched
keen, rugged boars scour
underbrush and creek beds
loose, clever magpies render
black-and-white guidance
and the rain still won’t fall
In-between
More than they were once
They are not the same
Beginnings from yesterday’s
moments, as near as this next one
And us, royal inspiration,
purple clover upon the
fallow impermanences
of overgrazed fields
The only lasting moment
initiates the creative
within the next
And us, avatars of access
mascots of divine continuity
within the from and the to
between moments.
asking mister crow
how this day will be
stretch appendages
step to the left twice
a loud and shrill caw
old crow, bemused
with all my silliness,
quickly flaps away
ayaz daryl nielsen, husband, father, veteran, x-roustabout/roughneck (as on oil rigs) and hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (24+ years/118+ issues), poetry’s homes include Lilliput Review, The Stray Branch, Dead Snakes, Shamrock, Kind of a Hurricane, Shemom, earns cherished awards and participates in worthy anthologies - ensembles include Concentric Penumbra’s of the Heart and Tumbleweeds Still Tumbling, and, in 2013, released an anthology The Poets of Bear Creek - beloved wife/poet Judith Partin-Nielsen, worthy assistant Frosty, and! bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com (translates as joie de vivre)
awesome!
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