adrift in gray

velvet color of fur or fog
wears the wisdom of decades
blends years of experience
with new learning
and critical comprehension
that resists duality
so easily accessorized with silver
and a pop of some bright flower
its haze harbors secrets that need to be kept
like where the bend in the road will lead us
withholds what we’re not ready to know
like the details of death
allows us to discover in our own time
whatever it shelters

After reflecting on several recent major and minor peak experiences that I had to produce first a poem, then a haiku, related, but not identical in sense.

On the Mountaintop

Swim through ordinary days
considering centuries of worn steps.
Face oncoming storms with kindness,
remembering the poignance of love.
Be determined. Be stunning and majestic
and infinite as stars’ songs in sacred stone spaces
or paintings hung by the wine-dark sea
to reflect and amplify the energy
of our souls, crafted mirrors
of unknown magic.

To the Mountaintop

centuries’ worn steps
carry with kindness and love
our enchanted souls.

Flames hold off dampness
Sun beats back winter’s cold
enough to wake TREES

I loved the way the cliff haiku changed the shape of the words, so I tried to imitate it when I formatted my haiku. Alas: this space changed my formatting, but the words “dampness” and “winter’s cold” should be spaced off to the right in each line.
I have written haiku which did not match the 5-7-5 count, and it always felt like I was breaking a law (writer’s guilt! lol) so it will be fun to experiment with that again.

I am drawn to Brother David’s haiku about the lake and the rain. It evokes the ambiguity of figure and ground, the illusion that so interested me when I was young and took a design course, and that now seems the epitome of zen. In this haiku, I notice the syllable count is 4 6 3 rather than 5 7 5. I notice the repetition of “is lost” and “in the” that sets up the feeling of ambiguity, of not knowing which is which. I notice the simplicity of two images that nevertheless evokes a complex mental image of rain storms I have watched as they play out on the surface of the pond in my back yard. I notice the rocking feeling ,the back and forth of the simple words and their rhythms. And so I must write one:
dawn’s comforting pink
challenges nature’s warning:
change will be coming.