In Praise of Chutney

for dVerse

Golden-orange, green tinged apricots
And paper white, paper wrapped garlic
Tiny brown cilantro seeds; coriander.

Hours spent delicately picking coriander
Sticky hands coated in nectar from cutting apricots
And fingers smeared by dirt while digging garlic.

Blended together; a melody. Zinging garlic
Citrus bursting out of coriander
Swimming in a golden sauce of apricots.

Apricot chutney with garlic and coriander a delicacy homemade.


Chutney is like a cross between jam and salsa. It's amazing.

Reflections on Fire

Magpie Tale 132

Shared with dVerse Open Link Night

sharp winter beyond
window waits for summer sun
until then fire warms

without bright fire
electric heating shuns the
glinting snow without

two big red cherries
debate with the antique clock
when to light the fire

icicles out; fire in
by hearth chocolate cup
warm hands and warm heart

Sage Dance

for dVerse

Russian sage fills the air
Flying from blue fuzz
Tickling bunny’s nose
While droning bee buzz
Dripping down long ears
Speaks an invitation

So bunny waits for fairy song
And moonrise through the field
Painting grass with silver wealth
While fairies come out well-heeled

Music mingles in the breeze
Across the silver stage
Bunny bounds in the dance
Through the nighttime age
For the joy of life
And the Russian sage

Two Girls, One Bucket

for dVerse

Picking up fallen peaches
squirming away from bugs.
I like dog kisses and cat’s fur
against my hands.
Not spider and rolly-polly feet
or ants.
Katie’s never feared a creepy-crawly.
Snatches peaches two or three at once
fills the bucket by the time
I’ve taken two from the ground.
She complains
she did all the work.

The King's River

Magpie Tale 131

shared with dVerse

I remember sailing on the king’s river
On the river in the summer, watching the shore slip by
Slipping by old castles among new grasses
Among the grasses I thought I saw a bard
A bard he was I know, for he held a harp in his hand
With such a harp in his hand I heard him sing
Singing of days long gone flown with the wind
The wind itself stopped to listen, and so did time
The times of old slid back into their places
In their places princes courted smiling maidens
Smiling maids rescued threadbare tailors
Threadbare tailors found their thread again
And with their thread sewed all the world back up.

Summer Morning

for dVerse

day light touch my face
morning wakes but I in bed
open eye then close again

Huitain Cat

for dVerse

He’s a sly fellow with whimsies
to engage a leaf in combat
or catch my hand in a tease
or declare war upon the rats
to show his skill to me. The cat
only asks for this show my lap
to curl himself in warm and fat
purring. Letting me enjoy his nap.