The rain was trying to not be snow today. Eventually it lost the battle and gave in. Big at first, flakes attempted to reclaim the earth it held captive all these months. The snow was not ready to admit that it is already April. Not today. Wet grey air filled with frozen hexagrams, falling but their chilled hearts weren’t into it. I could see it, feel it. Following some unseen general’s orders. Each one making its way to the ground, and melting. Morale among them was low. Whispering that they were all tired of it. Who’s telling you to keep this up? As if I had the authority, I let them know, that there is no shame in surrender. I will welcome them all back in nine months. RoyceDeans.com |
Haikus of the Art of It
1.
Art is a challenge
Always worthwhile to pursue
Noble task indeed.
2.
Landscape in my view
Trees, hills, sky, and dirt
My paint covers all.
3.
Bended knee held tight
Extended toe touches down
Sketching the balance.
4.
Drawing an idea
Birthing a new universe
Noble task indeed.
Haiku for the Fifteenth
Prepare for April
Nothing but death and taxes
Of that I am sure.
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No Reason At All
For a while there was no reason to worry. No reason at all. He gave her a look that said as much. A good long look. “Isn’t it remarkable how remarkable it is,” she replied. Utterly. Moments like these are rare. Less than a blue moon. You might wish they weren’t. More like full moons. It might not have been as long ago that there was no reason to worry. No reason at all. For a while there was time to burn. All the time in the world. He gave her a diamond watch. It’s about time. “Isn’t it strange,” she remarked. Only real diamonds cut glass. Moments like these take time. Like an all-day sucker. You might wish for more. Less is more. It might not take so long. All the time in the world. For a while there was time to worry. Ain’t nobody got time for that now. He gave her a squeeze. I needed that. “Isn’t it a relief,” she added. There are pauses that refresh. Moments like these should be savored. Like an all-day sucker. You might wish for more. More is more. It might not hurt you to breathe a little more deeply. Everybody needs to make time for that. |
The Allegory of Big Boys Don’t Cry
Violins cry
Violas weep
Fiddles know none such.