There Were Dry Red Days There were dry red days. Devoid of clouds. Devoid of breeze. Sound bruised My burning bones.. Dirt cracked my hands And caked my cheeks No buds on limbs of trees No birds on branches No hope of rain Scrawny chickens Kicked up dust Scratching for food That wasn't there. In the stifling, stillness Of the scorched night We dreamt Of cool oases Tropical isles Emerald bays Not these dry red days. Early Morning Haiku .......... 1. in the silver dawn rivers of chrysanthemums flow past my window ..........2. enter the sweat lodge aho mitakuye oysin sweet medicine sage .......... 3. in the still harbour the quiet seagull dances melancholy dreams .......... 4. drowsy we cuddled crickets chirp down in the yard summer symphony .......... 5. with my finger I trace your delicate pattern lace wing butterfly .......... 6. consumed with bouquet like a summer evening she blossoms secretly .......... 7. beyond the dark wood the moon reveals still water bright like a mirror .......... 8. hog and hen bask in barnyard sunshine bacon and eggs? .......... 9. dawn breakers, birdsong better than alarms ringing five more minutes please! .......... 10. woods shrouded in fog silver mists hide the brilliance of sapphire skies .......... 11. like glass lace about the wind on a blue morning The House of Blue Leaves on a painted wooden bridge over the shimmering dimpled jade waters of the sunlit golden koi pond, in the garden of the House of Blue Leaves we sipped green tea. as white petals fell like snowflakes red lips close to my ear whispered "I Love You" but I already knew by the smile in those brown eyes lowered beneath thick black lashes. Please do stop by and visit Sharmagne at QUILL & PARCHMENT Main Page This site sponsered by