Materia Poetica

(C) R.L.K.

We speak of such things: the dreamy song
of a sparrow on a June morning
when fog hugs the shadows, or
the clouds that skim the rooftops
on a December night. We consider
what we consider: a season and its weather.
We speak of things, and so we speak
of the state of our world, at a given time.

hours (contemporary haiku)

(C) R.L.K.

morning dew --
the softness
of a parting word
….
low clouds all afternoon --
alone in the town square
a wet sparrow
….
the willows at twilight --
old friends
sharing the silence
….
hazy moonlight --
in the distance
a lone boat on the lake

Solo Renga

(C) R.L.K.

Warm windy evening --
The streetlamps shine
among the maples.

Few and far between:
glistening raindrops.

The leaves shake,
stop,
then shake again.

A door opens;
someone goes through.

Far off, a train whistle --
the old dog on the porch
continues to doze.

Patches of shadow
on damp pavement.

It’s this world,
it’s a different world…
here.

Untitled, Perhaps?

(C) R.L.K.

Something like this, if it happens, can happen
when least expected, perhaps less than a week
after the funeral of a close friend. One day you notice
the window brightening early. You rise and look out
at the redbud trees in full bloom against
a sky blue beyond blue. There is no sound
but birdsound, and no need to wonder what comes next.

Triad

(C) R.L.K.

JUST SO:
over the willows
a great blue heron climbs
toward the sunrise

THEN:
day clouded over --
we step off the porch
into spring rain

AND:
at gilded twilight
a silence slowly stretches out
across the pond

Tanka

(C) R.L.K.

1.
How strange , after all
these years, to think of her now,
just because the wind
is warm and the moonlight is
pouring down through the young leaves.

2.
Just one of those days:
sitting here on the porch with
little to do but
watch the sky turn hazy blue
after the rain ends.

Listening to "The Last Mile Home"

(C) R.L.K.

It is a Saturday morning and a soft rain
is falling on the grass in your grandparents’ yard.
Your bicycle, leaning against the old shed, will be ready
when the time comes (for surely the rain will stop falling
and there will always be time to ride laughing
through the countless tree-lined streets). For now,
there is the big chair on the porch to sit on,
there are the shapes of the clouds passing by,
and there is that sweet melody you hear
coming from the radio in the kitchen, and you,
and the people you love, are humming along.