At this time of year
it’s always in the air
A hunger I can’t define
This hunger I must abide
Spinkled with the dust of melancholy
Rounding the borders of sadness
Hoping always that it doesn’t quite come to that but,
At this time of year
it’s always in the air
another rose blooms
even as autumn holds tight –
change cares for itself
Pat R
11/29/18
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt today is change: “Transition”.
a case of hunger
birds stay in striking distance,
snowberry thickets
Pat R
10/29/18
For Ronovan Writes Haiku where the prompt is Strike & Hunger
It is time once again to journey
to the fall foliage of the mountains
Meadows and valleys are drenched in autumn colors
Autumn has come –
The number of horses in my favorite meadow has grown to four – a foal gallops
Mountain meanders across gray skies
Smoke curls from chimneys once hidden
Autumn has come –
The first thing always, is a walk to the creek
Fallen maple leaves lend a vibrant crunch
in song with the bouncy, joyful creek
Yes. Up high in the mountains,
Autumn has come.
Pat R
10/25/18
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt is a poem with Repetition. Have a visit here.
It was the weekend. I did not have to work. Plus, I had another couple of days off. So, as is usual, we pile into the car and head off to Ole Rickety. Ole Rickety is an old farm house out in the country, in a small town three hours outside of the city. It sits on a wide open space in the shadows of twin maple trees with pine trees off to its sides. To the back of Ole Rickety is a creek, some who have visited say, “this is no creek, it’s a river!”
It is melodious, and can be thunderous at times. The water runs swiftly and it is cold. Miniature waterfalls and rapids abound and it is calming. Access to the creek requires climbing down stadium-seating boulders. So there is always a good spot to sit and be mesmerized by its show.
Here, one can perfect the art of doing nothing. It is a country place that is great for getaways fit for rejuvenation of the soul, and for getting lost in a book and climbing onto its pages. It is a place for re-discovering yourself, hearing yourself think and for sleeping like you slept before you had responsibilities.
The true country experience starts with the journey. The ride up from the city is therapeutic in itself. The country route lends itself to breathtaking mountain views. The interplay between soaring mountain peaks and deep valleys are the stuff postcards are made of. Throughout the journey, there are wide open spaces with old farm houses sporting long- abandoned grain silos. It is very picturesque.
The Fall is my favorite time of year. On arrival, and on exiting the car, the cool crisp air of the mountains is filled with the smells from wood burning fireplaces. Nature’s Fall colors are in full regalia. It’s heady and intoxicating! A shutter bugs dream!
PR
9/29/2012
I wrote this a while ago, thought I would recycle it for dVerse Poetic prompt.
At the entrance of the grave yard
the old willow stands its ground
whispy strands flailing in wind
Their flounce, still do abound
Negotiating and bargaining
With spirits’ wish to uncleave
Who will earn the early pass
to the stroll on All Hollow’s Eve?
Pat R
10/22/18
For dVerse Poets Pub where the prompt
Is “Early”. A very Halloweeny quadrille, a 44 word poem.
Pop over. Do some reading and join in, here.
well clad vines loose
autumn blush – artful scrolls emerge;
on nature’s compass
Pat R
10/22/18
Where the prompt words are Art & Compass. Pop over and join in😊😊
Mother Bea sits in her wooden rocking chair on the rickety varandah. She is placed there every morning. She does not walk. She must be over 80 years old. Even her kids were old. When you are little, everybody is old! I watch her as she watches the daily interactions of the children in the yard. She would make one word prouncements on the goings-on.
Cry baby. Smart. Determined. Thick skull. I often wondered how she arrived at these critiques from such a distance. And more often, just who she was talking about!
at times it’s futile
figuring out which spirit
whisper the loudest
in their attempts to guide me –
probably pointless, thick skull!
For Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday
Where the prompt is synonyms for :
Ghost & Hollow
I used : Spirit & Futile
To see other entries and participate go here.
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dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night
I caught this shot on the fly. This made me remember Thursday Doors over at Norm’s. I have to restart my hunt for cool doors to share😊.
Pat R
10/18/18
For Thursday Doors over at Norm’s
To see more and participate go here.
a true autumn day
chorus of dry leaves
swirl in a burst
trapped
in a crisp gust,
a fall frolic
Pat R
10/17/18
thoughts and entanglements 
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