Memory’s Harvest #haiku

At the beginning of September I came back to my birthplace. Nothing of my mother remained. The grass in front of mother’s room had withered in the frost. Everything had changed. The hair of my brother and sisters was white and they had wrinkles between their eyebrows. We could only say, “We are fortunate to be still alive.” Nothing more. My elder brother opened an amulet case and said reverently to me, “Look at mother’s white hair. You have come back after such a long time. So this is like the jewel box of Urashima Taro. Your eyebrows have become white.” We wept for a while and then I composed this verse:

if taken in my hand
it would vanish in hot tears
autumn frost
© Basho (Tr. Jane Reichhold)


The soil was where our story began ~

We were farmers and during the coldest winter,  harshest depression, or strictest rationing, we always had a spare morsel for someone with empty hands. Great grandfather passed down a love for the harvest; his son carried forth that responsibility. Some of us shared that love for the land while others tried to get the last dime from her. Dimes are spent rapidly and with little memory. The land has been faithful and gives back to those who dig deep…

still warm to the touch

memories flow with the tears

you have never failed



The Carpe Diem  prompt  today is from the wonderful haibun from Basho. “If taken in my hand” fills me with new and old memories as my hands return to the soil this season.




Ripples of Compassion #haiku #kindness #poetry #photography

Ripples of Life

Your outstretched hand

reaching toward wounded soul

fingertips meet


fingertips meet

heart warmed with kindness’ smile

reflect in the sky


reflect in the sky

ripples of  compassion

circle the earth

It is so refreshing that the smallest act of kindness can have a ripple effect

Thanks to Kristjaan at Carpe Diem for prompting us to reflect upon compassion.

Photography: “Ripples of Life” © L. Moon 2012

Hand in Glove

Your glove





My hand





The hand in the glove




the other

The glove

where the hand




The hand

fitted with  the glove

sharing warmth


it with love

Together – they are one!                 

Letting Go of My Hand (Poem)

I held her small hand

walked into the marketplace of life

when did her hand become strong?

She let go –  seemed the right time

Watching her shape fade

into the tapestry of tomorrow

wrought pain

Was it pain?

Or was it missing future memories?

I  felt this pang once before

when all the memories of the past melded

the day my hand was big

I entered the marketplace and

let go of my mother’s


never turned back

You looked at me – Moondustwriter poetry

You looked at me

our first time

eyes met



You spoke to me

made me laugh

a chord was struck



You brushed my skin

accident and yet

feelings on fire



You felt my whisper

pass by your cheek

warmed your heart



You reached  for me

took my hand

entwined in yours


Thanks to: Batega for the photo