December 31st

we start in winter

dark days of gale, frosty breath

in watery sun

 

till the axis tips

into her majestic arms

and we are bathed in

 

her spring coat of green

the world bursts in bright colour

and a smile conquers

 

our hearts through summer

the moors alive with new birth

till the autumn fall

 

of gold leaf litter

the fungi bloat in shadow

the nourishing rain

 

and the coming cold

the flakes of new snow tumble

we end in winter

 

That’s it. All done. Thank you to all of you who have read my Haikus. Much love to you and your loved ones for 2013. xxx

December 6th

that autumn harvest

of sloes plucked and pricked after

the first biting frost

slung and barrel sloshed

slow weeping their heady tears

in sugary gin

with the fire spreading

around the blood, red faced smiles

a rain repellent!

 

A little tribute to Sloe Gin. We met up with friends for a festive catch up. Our friend Neil had a glass of a Spanish version of Sloe Gin in our favourite Clerkenwell restaurant Medcalf. I had a dessert wine but should have got that too! It was slightly aniseed-ish, but not overpowering like a pastis or ouzo. Was a lovely subtle drink. So warming on a winter’s evening. Debbie made some Sloe gin at home, we still have some left. The process of collecting and making it, from the astringent sloe berries, mixed in a sugar and gin solution. Sloshing it around every once in a while. In a few short months, it is ready. Delicious.

When we left Medcalf, the rain was battering down. After that sort of drink though, there is a force field of red faced warmth, burning the rain before it hits you!

November 19th

 

feline, fox and crow

prowled around the hidden nest

veiled by summer leaves

The tree opposite has revealed a nest after shedding its leaves. I’d like to think whatever bird built it managed to rear their young successfully, the local hunters oblivious to the morsels growing up behind the leaves. But in all likelihood the nest got invaded as it’s right on the lane, cats being the biggest threat. You never know though!

November 11th

 

when the sun breaks through

to kiss your flayed skin you dance

dead eaves exalted

 

the pilgrimage tree

shimmers in gold leaf litter

slowly falls apart

 

There is an old dead tree in the woods near us. It sustains so much life. We’ve watched it slowly fall apart over ten years.

We feel quite attached to it. Photo I took below ( © Mel Melis)

November 2nd

the meek sun revives

stone hearts warm and swell with blood

Lazarus life light

On cold days the sun provides that warmth to lift even the coldest heart, to force a smile, to melt, even by a tiny amount, a sadness. Here are some photos I took in Centenary Wood and the place I keep returning to, the Pond on the moors. That solitary swan seems to be living there now, it makes me sad to think he or she might have lost their mate.

All copyright to photos © Mel Melis

October 28th

 

in the sun shunned wet

the earth stirs and rises up

slender stalks shoulder

the secret places

where sad old trees go to die

teeming with colour

 

Went for a walk in the moors and woods. If you look closely, the fungi are everywhere. In those sun shunned secret places. I don’t know much about identifying them, but they are all beautiful in their own way. Here are some photos I took (copyright: Me!). These are real scenes of autumn, the colours of autumn.

October 15th

the blue spark ignites

reverence of fire makers

soul nourished, bones warmed

We lit our first fire of the Autumn. It’s getting cold.

October 12th

 

burgundy bursting

through the blaze of bronze and gold

a road edge lustre

When describing how amazing trees look at this time of year, I’ve so far avoided using “russet”. I’m sure that time will come! It’s hard to not be contrived… for me anyway!

October 7th

 

Restless Little Owl

calls to Selene’s bright shilling

the oak slumbers on

There was an owl, probably in the oak, in the early hours. The moon, even though it wasn’t full, was bright. Shining right through the tree. I noticed my breath steaming for the first time this autumn. It’s getting cold.

October 5th

 

eager wind pursues

the huddled ones listening

to the scythe’s rattle

the beating rain and

rumble of the angry clouds

makes the timber wince

anticipating

the October Country guests

…this is their season

 

As it’s October, I’m dipping in and out of this fabulous collection of Ray Bradbury short stories. He died this year of course, but his body of work speaks for itself. The blurb for the book evocatively captures the essence of it:

“…where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnight stays. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country where people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty paths sound like rain…”

My little Haiku conglomerate is my humble tribute to him.

October 2nd

 

the red rain of leaves

trees shed their summer colours

ready for the cold

September 29th

 

I am five again

walking to school and kicking

the dry leaves skywards

September 28th

 

newspaper tumbles

betwixt the trees breaking from

the cracked paving slabs

coming to rest on

black painted railings, a sail

fluttering helpless

------

the damp chill dissolved

by the sun rising, singing

then again the rain

London on an Autumn morning. Two poems, one a two Haiku composition and another standalone. Sometimes I think that I’ve written something similar on a previous day this year. The second especially seems to remind me of something I’ve previously written, but at least there’s another original offering for today.

September 23rd

 

Night circles the Day

shears the edges with winter

blades and rain soaked chill

I heard on the weather report that the day is now officially shorter than night, the autumn solstice has passed. Of course it’s an inevitability with the change in the seasons. But to hear it brought it home. The weather is gloomy and wet. I think I’ve had my last day of the year without needing a jacket. As they say in Game of Thrones, Winter is Coming.

September 20th

tense long limbs twitch feel

one eye open seven shut

a hunter waiting

Spiders everywhere. it’s definitely Autumn, there’s a chill in the air. This big wolf spider was claiming my £1 off Tesco voucher. I let him keep it. Not sure what he’d spend it on though.

September 11th

 

The last butterflies

have given up on summer

frayed silk on the wing

The butterfly numbers are dwindling, went for a run on the moors earlier, they look pretty much finished. They’ll lay their eggs and die.

September 7th

 

tandem ploughs drag lines

cut and fold the fertile muck

slowly turn return

September 5th

green naked rosehips

stripped of petals windfallen

too early to blush

 

a pinch of angels

float, take root on chalk hills

as hardy thistles

 

Meadow Browns busy

along the sheltered old road

late summer blessings

 

Some pictures from my walk on Pegsdon Hills today. This is a beautiful time of year especially on days like this where the sun isn’t too hot and the breeze is gentle.

Wild Rose

A barren tree

Hawthorn berries, I took a photo of these trees when they were smothered in blossom back in the Spring.

ploughed fields

Sheep

September 1st

One by one they come

swift sorties tight to the hedge

insect gathering

So I’m at Electric Picnic, a great music festival, but I’m inspired by birds again. Swifts loading up for their massive migration to Africa by acrobatically flying against the hedges, elegant twists and turns in mid air to catch unknowing flies or spiders floating on gossamer.

August 28th

 

the light retreating

days curl up in pink sunsets

summer hibernates

a pic I took from our bedroom window