Monday, May 08, 2017

 

Haiku about rain...

There were so many great poems  about rain last week (and welcome back Renee!).

Can I just say it? Gavin is really good at haiku:

Dad, Grandpa, and me
Watch the prairie sky turn black
From the west it comes

Hot day turns cool fast
In the distance thunder rolls
Wheat sways in the wind

The first drops fall hard
Fat, wet bombs crater the dust
No more work today.


And welcome Michael O'Connor!:

They call them “soft” days.
Moisture fills the Irish air
Encompassing all. 

And since it turns out that not just men can write poetry (someone wrote to tell me that I had the only "male-dominated" poetry page he had seen, and I'm not quite sure what to make of that), we had compelling work from Jill Scoggins (of Louisville, if you couldn't tell):

Now: Oaks. Tomorrow:
Derby. Weather: Thunderstorms.
Calling all mudders.

Retired horseracing
reporter husband shows me
how to read the form.

"See that? It shows track
conditions in horse's past.
That's the way you tell."

A mys'try unlocked.
Info understood at last.
Hint: sly is sloppy.


And Carina, I always love learning a new word:

Misty morning here
My daughter's smile is so big
Pluviophile.

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