cronechronicler

You don't know where you are going. You don't know how to get there. And you arrive just the same. Ghanaian saying

My Writing Room

The smaller of the two bedrooms in my apartment became my writing room when I moved here eight years ago. This is where my blog began with the help of a willing grandson. The large window is a portal to my imagination. I love the tall oak tree among whose spreading branches I watch squirrels and birds build nests and care for their young. The moon and changing colors of the sky shape the budding poet inside me. Within my room are things that remind me of my journey.

Green plants live near my window to catch the light. All are off-spring shoots from friends and family. Tending them nourishes the outdoor gardener in me. On the window ledge are things that shine on sunny days – a royal blue glass coffee mug, souvenir from a Colorado trip; a bluish purple paperweight that was my son’s; an old brass cowbell with lots of family history.

The walls have a geographical bent – picture of a Texas cowboy riding on a lonesome road, wedding present to my Dad a Texan, too. A wooden wall clock in the shape of Ohio, gift to me from my congregation in a small Ohio town. Three framed certificates mark my progress to become their minister.

Everything else is furniture that has traveled with me for a while. The student desk and chair were used by my three sons. The much-scarred cherry end table, a gift from my mother in the 60’s, has been in every home I’ve known. The futon came with me from Chicago when I moved back to Cleveland to be with my family here. My glass computer table and new laptop are beside a table where my printer sits. They are the newest things except for what I write, which await my muse.

With many thanks to Pleasant Street who gave me the idea to write this piece.

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Haiku: Recess

Sprightly Autumn fun
Leaves are playing London Bridge
All are falling down

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Haiku: Sound Affects

Squirrel runs on tree limb
Noisy acorn bombardment
Strikes metal table

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Haiku: Procrastination

Temperatures warm
Stubborn leaves on trees still green
Summer flowers bloom

Autumn will arrive
Splendid colors flaming bright
In her own good time

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Haiku: Patio Overture

Geese honk overhead
Acorns ping metal tables
Autumn strikes up band

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Haiku: Just Picture It

Winter’s winding down
Tiny buds adorn the trees
Birds are building nests

Cover’s off the pool
Dirty water visible
Mind’s eye sees sun screen

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Haiku: Seasonal Attire

Temperature freezing
Squirrel sunbathes on tree limb
Fur coat keeps him warm

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Haiku: Front Row Seat

Sun sends out its rays
Windows sparkle in return
Bricks glow dusty red

Squirrel leaves its nest
Scampers cross still leafless limb
Morning show begins

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Haiku: Natural Eclipsing

Prepared for eclipse
Geared with paper and pin holes
Awaiting big show

Image on paper
Tiny, less than impressive
Till someone noticed

On patio stones
At our feet there were crescents
Shadows abounding

New way of viewing
Sunlight shining made shadows
Through oak leaf pin holes

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Recycling

My AC is broken, not cycling cool air
On this monstrously hot day
Sweat doesn’t cool but reminds me
I’ve a talent to reclaim

Long hot southern summers
With no air conditioning.
A back yard with pecan trees
Taught me how to catch breezes.

I sat by a window not moving a muscle
Getting lost in book-reading
Words were my magic carpet
FanningΒ  air as it flew.

Today by my window
Oak tree leaves transport me
A slight wind brings coolness
Settling round my feet.

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