A mist haiku trilogy

Mist in the treetops…

The clouds have come visiting;

the sun stays at home.

*

Mist turned to drizzle…

The sky eats the horizon

and spits at the earth.

*

Mist dissipating…

Birds snatch disappearing worms

and swoop to the sun.

(c) Sarah Potter, 2012

English: Grasmere Early morning mist just diss...
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This is the first time I’ve reblogged anything, but these photos of Montreal Gardens posted on http://allaboutlemon.wordpress.com are too fantastic to miss.

allaboutlemon-All Around, In, And Out Of My Own Universe

Montreal Gardens

Can you imagine the maintenance?  Wow!

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A poem to the daughter who mightn’t have existed

English: Edward Wehner's watercolour of "...
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The poem below, written fifteen years ago, is dedicated to my beautiful and characterful daughter–herself a mother of two fantastic children–and who, this weekend, celebrates her 30th birthday.  I love you, my big baby xxxx

***

THE CHOICE

you are the best mistake I ever made

laid

backs turned, doors slammed, new friends found, new front doors

thaws

I knew you because you made sure of it

prophet

as an inchling squirming in my womb

room

hand-me-downs of doll-sized clothes sat folded

moulded

long days passed before my gift-wrapped surprise

guise

you never cried–too nosy from the start

heart

a beautiful individualist

kissed

old spurners backtracked to ingratiate

late

I’d petition angels to protect you

true

we fought pitched battles with the world and won

stun

and now I watch you fight your teenage wars

roars

your eyes squall-grey, fire from your studded nose

pose

smiles, apologies, blue-eyed bliss, peace

cease

an unbreakable individualist

kissed

lovers of your own and choices to make

wait

(c)Sarah Potter, 1997

Maestro: a poem for Valentine’s Day

On full swell and with abundant stops out

you ensnared me in your fortissimo

with the ebullience of a maestro

who has not a semi-quaver of doubt.

*

You knew a moderate tune would bore me

when I required my body and spirit

to augment into a frenetic fit

of diatonic notes exempt from key.

*

I watched your broad hands plough the ivory

and sow seeds of possession in each note,

the linen wings of your surplice afloat

as you caroused in tonal rivalry.

*

Leaning to turn pages, I felt your breath

tease my ear in a capriccio dare

and smelled wood-smoke and incense in your hair

so I ached somewhere between life and death.

*

As an infinite note trapped between staves,

I became a part of your concerto

oft played presto and seldom larghetto

in a passion of agitato waves.

***

(c)Sarah Potter, 1994

Dedicated to my musician husband,Victor, with love xxxx

Mr & Mrs in recital, 2008