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this dark autumn night

On like an apple

another tan renga challenge at Carpe Diem, this time with a lovely haiku by Lothar/Rheumatalogue as our prompt.

this dark autumn nightthe bright stars of milky waycries of geese above

There is something about this haiku that reminds me of the Issa haiku I just wrote about for this week's "poem club" post, so I'll repeat that one here too:

palmsin the cooking firewinter cold

I guess it is the combination of the coldness of winter or dark autumn, the world turning harsher for living things, as the time for rest (and death, for much plant life at least) comes around, juxtaposed with a tenderness, a delight. In Lothar's haiku the warmth or delight is the miracle of the geese migration calling out from the starry sky and in Issa's it's the warmth of a cooking fire giving hands a pleasant moment even in the cold.

TWELVE

On ONEYEARANDTHIRTYTHREEDAYS

A few notable things have happened in the past couple of weeks. Firstly, I went for a horse trek- a wild, wet, windy canter along the sands following a splash in the surf and a beautiful stagger through the native bush, over little streams and across wide open paddocks. This was with Wayne and Penny, our neighbours, kind of, at Wildcoast Ruapuke. Lucky to be invited, and excited to be back in the saddle, riding reminded me of how wonderful it is simply to walk and to look, to not really think, just sit back and go with the movement, in this case of Blue, a handsome and sturdy roan.

Also, I spent a day working for a clever friend of mine, Ben, who makes groovy shoes from upcycled materials under the name Trash Footwear (www.trashfootwear.com). This earned me an awesome pair of boots, ready for Winter wanderings. He's off to Oz to do some work, so needed a hand tying up loose laces and fattening up the website, which was real fun.

Then there was the storm. A mighty weight of wind, whipping and smashing through Ruapuke, taking trees, power lines, tipping, tossing, tumbling all kinds of objects as if rubbish, leaving then strewn across lawns like an obstreperous teenager, who's in fact still waiting, sulking around the mountain and shouting gusts of air, though for us now from a more amiable distance. It came in the night and felt like it could kick the bus down... Fortunately, it's reasons lacked conviction and it seemed to stomp off after an extended tantrum, leaving, well, just a bit of a mess. Which afforded us a lovely day at the bus, with no power and a good reason to cook delicious food on the fire, dream up cool ideas for the bus and of course, siesta.

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