In My Back Yard
The view out the back door
A (Low) Tech Perspective

the years don't wash

The years don't wash
away so much as swoosh,
like water in the family tub,
when influenced by the shifting
of conflicting planetary plates
(earth by waves inflicting).

At times the years lap up
against our face as gentle
memories; sometimes as traces
of darker days returned from deeper places;
a tsunami to assault the village of
our maturity.

But on many days the laughter
of a child is heard, who after
violent protests of cleanliness,
relents to the humiliation of the bath,
and makes the action of his or her
own earthquake with big splashes,
to the giggled admonishments
of moms and dads recalling
their own childhood passions.

Then, time seems to ride the waves
of our own making: we lord
over sea battles, and sailing boats.
And God? Content to save
the quaking of the continents,
while we with soap repent, and the host
attends to raise our village up on posts.



Several Haikus. I've been playing with this form, and currently am really drawn to it. I like the constraint, in fact, and the rules I guess. The first two are counted by syllable; 5, 7, 5. The last four are not so rigid though: I did not want to count by syllable, and so I counted by a softer measure, beats, or some other rhythmic measure that only exists in my mind.

Carefully laid bricks
Will never stop the grass, small
Blades unsheathed in praise

Mother, daughter, father, son
Mounds of laundry grow

Devices by our coffee
Occasionally we look up to see. What?
Computers everywhere, and envy

Outside, bright autumn sun
Coffee and crusty bread, cold meat
Pause. Just long enough

Bright sun, beautiful day
Many pretty things to see
My screen bright enough?

Gauzy mat (square) of cloud
High above yellow-green leaves
Scattered sun, hot, cold



Copyright, Davo, 2005 through today