Evanesce

Evanesce

Tidal treasures for which I search elude me, no colorful glass, no smoothed stones, everything's cloaked in gray.  Today the tidewrack offers small piles of driftwood and debris; white and gray seagull feathers, bits of rope, possibly a cat's skull, eye sockets portals in which my fascination lingers; think of my Father-in-Law's open casket, of words I'd like to say.  His casket was gray, his silver hair gently combed, his face unlined, rested as if sleeping, treasured rosary and worn prayer cards clasped in folded hands, his gray suit-front crisp as I laid my hand upon his chest.  The chill of the wind brings me back, spy a red button in the sand, remember the array of beautiful red roses atop his coffin, know they too will join this season's fade to gray.

I wish for one more
"I love you" but seasons change
and red fades to gray.

by Margaret Bednar, November 29, 2018

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Toni's Challenge - Mono no Aware" write about change, loss, not full blown depression but a subtle, wistful sadness.  150 words or less and in the Haibun format (which includes a Haiku at the end)


Evanesce - to disappear gradually, vanish, fade away.

Gratitude

Gratitude

It’s the lull between the flame and the last ember,

the quiet of the buttercream sky before the blazing sun sinks low.

the spark in your eye before the laughter.

As a child we’d slip on our coats not bothering to button,

slip into Dad’s boots, trudge quickly toward woodshed

through shovel-wide snow path, 

collect tinder we’d gathered since spring,

rosy cheeked, return, feed wood-burning stove,

jockey for position beside cats and dogs.

Mesmerized we’d watch the flames take off, 

roar and snap as Dad loaded the logs, 

added paper for our oohs and awes.

We felt safe, happiness being together,

warm, popcorn and cider a treat, 

tossing a kernel or two to dislodge the dogs.

When I parade myself along the shore, 

watch the luminous sky combust and spread it’s glow 

along the horizon devouring sky’s blues and whites,

I feel a warmth akin to my fireside idles; my heart swells, 

feels twice as large, seemingly the cause for the tears 

that balance precariously but rarely spill.  

Happy tears, not sad, they fill me up

and, like the fireside embers,

kindle a well-being 

that rivals only the flicker of laughter

I spy in your eyes as you respond

to something I say, something I do,

an all consuming love that leaves me rosy cheeked,

grateful for the fire that still burns.

by Margaret Bednar, November 27, 2018

This is for "dVerse Poetics - Fire Up that Creativity"