~~Arkansas woodlands, PL~~

AN OZARK SPRING: a haibun

       I leave the Lucidity Poets Retreat in Eureka Springs, heading south on Highway 23-- the Pig Trail--my mind full of inspiration, eyes tuned to early spring things, Muse (Erato) perched on my shoulder.

       Passing a highway place sign, I see only several gray wooden shacks, perhaps once serving as campmeeting tents.

buildings in a row

under the mountain's sheer drop

Witter weathers well

 

       Farther on, around a curve,

 

cows rest in the mire

of a spring rain-soaked feedlot

close by, the traffic

       Sloping foothills reflect the many shades of spring-new meadows. Black and white cows season the greens--a panorama worthy of postcards and jigsaw puzzles. In pastures close to the highway, I notice

grass under cowpiles

shoots up higher than ordinary

--organic farming

 

 

       Across the road from a church,

 

wispy blonde broomsedge

waves through the graveyard fence

lonely? thirsty?

 

       South of Cass, close to I-40 and the flatlands, are

 

magenta faded,

old poke salet skeletons--

stripped and bleached white,

akimbo from winter winds--

still standing in spring pasture.

 

~~

from windfall persimmons: a collection of Oriental forms, 1995, PL, dba lovepat press

Cinquains from the Ozarks

 

October 29^th

Views from
two windows show
different hues of dogwood
even though they are planted side
by side.
~~~~~

A friend
wondered why—with
my large, attick-ed home place—
I chose to go to the mountains
to write. 

And yet
she, too, escapes
 to a second dwelling
away from cats and colts and her
neighbors.
~~~~

No squirrels,
 no crows—only
 the intrusive droning
of the nearby park cleaner’s leaf
blower.
~~~~

October 31^st:

After
yesterday’s rain
the flamboyant dogwood-
reds, the fiery hickories lost their
colors.
~~~~

A Different Landscape -- in the Ozarks

[picture from Google Images--not the scene described]

Foreground:
a wall of rock
topped with a canopied
woodbox still filled--this April day--
with leaves

and twigs.
Only two logs
cure, one a-lean against
the other outside the cover.
Beyond,

blue blooms
top vinca's green
carpet. The gentle slope
of Ozark hill plateaus enough
to hold

a chair.
So a writer--
in warmer weather--could
move outdoors, breathe in mountain air,
enjoy

early
morning's springy
ambience. Yet here I
sit--inside looking out: forty
degrees!

[PL, written April 5 as a resident at the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow, Eureka Springs AR]