I’ve been trying to haiku more, the last few days. It makes me pay attention.
I worked on a farm for three days in a town called Pillager:
soft rain on the field
drops placed with care, one by one
on cranberry flowers
little black birds make
sounds like ecstatic water
while I weed the peas
I rode north from there along the Paul Bunyan Trail, longest paved rail-trail in the country.
stop to meet a lake
soon – covered with tickling flies
paved trail: jutting backbone
to either side, the bogs creak –
bust open with frogsong
Then, today, it was rainy.
the musk of wet ferns
welcomed the first fish aground.
flower smells quenched today
I’m now all out of bike trail. The rest of the way, wherever that is, will be via roads. Up here most of them are lazy ones, broad-shouldered, quiet, through vivid green and blue, white stands of popple trunks, red-winged blackbirds singing leisurely songs and shuffling with papery noises through last year’s cattails.
By the way, the spammers have found their way to my blog, as you’ll notice if you look at the last post back. For now my solution is to moderate comments—they won’t appear immediately, I’ll have to approve them all first. I’ll work on something simpler when I can. Spam deleted, reCaptcha added (the button that says “I’m not a robot”). Should do the trick. My god, you wouldn’t believe the hundreds that were flowing in.