Family Picnics

Today’s challenge for d’Verse Poets is to write a haibun about a picnic. I’m also sharing with Real Toads.

When my son was born, I felt like I was cheating him.  As a single mom, he only had half a family, and I set out to make sure it was at least a complete one.  Our family vacations were usually three generations–my mom, my son and me–traveling to discover more of our family.  We visited libraries and museums and cemeteries to research our family history.  The cemeteries were always the best.  My son would pretend a square squat stone was a piano and practice his fingerings.  He would take out his toy tractor and drive it, farming between the endless rows of headstones.  He could run and laugh with family rather than be shushed like at the libraries.  Then we would picnic with our deceased relatives.

a graveside sandwich
nourishing soul and spirit
connect to the past

I didn’t have an old picture with my son in it (at least not on my computer), so this is a selfie with my sister when we picnicked with my great-great grandparents last summer.



Eden Hills

The challenge at d’Verse Poets today is to write a poem influenced by geography.  Of course, I chose to write about my farm, Eden Hills.  I’m also sharing with Real Toads for the Tuesday Platform.


Dust from the gravel road
carries my wishes to
the country gods of old–
A prayer for healthy kids
to grow strong in pasture;
A good year for crops to grow–
Hopes planted with the seeds;
dreams cultivated with crops.
A simple life of hard work
tied to the land I love.
Another year closer to heaven
while toiling in Earth’s Eden.


Who to Blame?

The challenge at d’Verse Poets today is to write a poem about blame and/or forgiveness.

Who do I blame
for fifty years of living
leaving me jaded,
wondering how I got here?
Fate, destiny or myself?

My choices, like the Pied
Piper luring me with
song, bid me to come here.
But what would I change?
What could I change?

Nothing–no real choice–
just following the music,
acting and reacting
to the song of society
the only way I could.

Now the true choice–
forgiveness for the hurts;
forgiveness for the wrongs;
forgiveness for myself for
my choices not being enough.