I must not have realized how long it had been between posts. When I realized that potential clients and new readers might land here, I discovered just how much time had passed, and thought a quick update was better than none at all. So here, for the August doldrums, are a few haiku from Spring & Summer 2017. It is August, and DC continues its exodus until Labor Day. Thunderstorms have hit us today, and the rain makes on tired. I’ve just completed my first article for an AARP website, and a few other tipsheets for the Association of Health Care Journalists.
Summer was truly improved by an article on an osprey nest, and a coloring page in Bay Weekly! Below, a few haiku that seemed more beautiful than usual. Do you agree? If anything catches your eye, please leave a comment–haiku reply welcome, of course. Criticism, illustration–or even requests for cards.
My first coloring page in Bay Weekly
A few flowers turning toward the sun
A foursquare of photos, summer, and a haiku
Spins into the sweet heaven
A sugar harvest
Madiba, those walls
Could not contain your vision
Flying free at last
We had too few hours
Paradise our horizon
I will follow you
Trees aim for the clouds
South River mirrors heaven
We could swim in it
We walked on water
It came so easy to us
We drifted like clouds
We all end in this
dusty rooms of vacant halls
where we hung our hearts
Moon nestled in clouds
Quarter in the slot of night
Send up some good dreams
More to it than you would think
Many years ago, before I got involved in writing about health, I wrote about space. It piqued my imagination, even when it was the mundane aspects of engineering. Yesterday’s news that Voyager had hit interstellar space really caught my fancy. It takes 17 hours for a radio signal to reach us. The inconceivable distance and time. Abstractions. I have an old poem called “The Astronaut Who Never Landed Reminisces About the Moon,” based on a talk I heard by Buzz Aldridge, who orbited while Armstrong walked. I may have to start reading those articles again, which let my imagination drift. Go Voyager, go! David Bowie should sing about this. I hope the spirit of the late Pat Monk caught a ride.
key words: Voyager, space travel, interstellar space
You cannot touch years
Though memory bears their weight
I sip my coffee
As ever on this day, I have flashes of memories–7 months pregnant about to board a flight at BWI. When the men screamed run, for fear of bombs, I ran from the terminal and jumped in the first car I saw. I am grateful for that driver’s kindness, for he drove me home to Annapolis as fast as he could. I could only think to get to my children. But as Meredith, then 9, told me when I said, “You’re safe, I’m here”–“I will never be safe again.”
Even so, we try for security, and work toward it. As Helen Keller said, “Security is mostly an illusion.” In any case, in addition to my own small memories of that day and the ensuring years, my heart goes out to all who lost lives, loved ones, and illusions, who continue to live in fear and war.