spheres of tiny flies
or sawdust swirls where he works
in autumn sunbeams
###
This poem was written in response to Carpe Diem “Little Creatures” #14, Basho’s ” spring rain,” another great prompt hosted by Chèvrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. All of the poems in the link-up can be read here.
IN MEMORY EVERYTHING SEEMS TO HAPPEN TO MUSIC -Tennessee Williams
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Powerfu poetic images. I love it, Sue.
Best wishes, Aquileana 😀
Thanks, Aquileana, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And I’m hoping to get a chance to catch up on my tour through Greek myths later today 😉
How did I miss this one? o.O
What a wonderful image!
Thanks, Jen. This was left over from the lovely sunny afternoons a while back… sigh.
It wasn’t me who was busily woodworking btw, I was just strolling by 😉
Well … somehow I didn’t envision you woodworking. Entirely possible … but … that didn’t come to mind. But then, I think we discussed woodworking in a different post — was talking about my grandfather’s puzzle boxes.
That’s right, we did. I envied his skill. You see, when I was little my granddad had a workshop where he also built furniture, etc, in wood – it fascinated me, like a mythical, fantasy kind of place. And that’s pretty much how all of those DIY-ish handyman skills have remained for me ever since – existing in a realm of fantasy and myth, never to be approached in reality… 😛
😉
Yeah, I can relate to that!