Oasis - Haibun
(first published in NatureWriting)
In the scorch of Florida’s summer, seabirds find refuge even at a parking lot pond.
A gray heron, standing to his knees, keeps watch between the waterlilies, until the fountain, timed to spray at noon, lifts him away. Ripples widen through the slender grass and sedge where a snowy egret wades for frogs. From my perch behind the reeds
I see the carp turn white to orange — creamsicle.
Cormorant stands tall,
wings spanned in the sun —
inky vulnerability at the verge.
Water rises, arches, and falls over the languid pool, softening what it can
of the city pressing in: motorbikes on the avenue, a siren, the blunt vibration of a helicopter overhead.
When the evening traffic thins
and the fountain finally calms
and I’m resting on my couch
windows open to the screens
and the night is still, until
scratching starts — the katydid.
Senryu - Summer evening silence — the shape of your absence.
Claire Dornic Unsplash
After the rain —the weight of summer’s undoing. - MelG
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Mary Ellen Gambutti writes lyrical magical realism, folklore, and botanical Gothic fiction, under the pen name, Islay Corwin - The Silverton Estate Duology Through the Yew Hedge and Through the Iron Gate.