How are you doing? The Sunday Weekly poetry post will offer you two poems this week. I have been writing virtually daily though not posting here on such a regular basis. If you want a daily dose of haiku poetry, illustrated with photos taken in our garden, then I recommend that you follow me on Instagram. Look for Word Alchemy for some #haikusofinstagram.
Here in Ireland we are now restricted to remaining within two kilometres of home, except for travel for food shopping or pharmacies or medical centres. Leitrim, which is just the other side of the bridge in our village was the last county in the Republic to report infection. We live in a remote location and can go days just waving at the odd passing car. So not a lot has changed for us, except the new distancing drill at our local supermarket. For such a small village, we are blessed to have a well-stocked shop. While the rest of the world is hoarding toilet paper, in Ireland there has been a run on flour. Apparently, Ireland is baking her way through quarantine.
But before the first poem, so eye candy from the garden.
The first poem came about when my friend in England had a text from her neighbour that the NASA Space Station is visible every night for a brief time. There was too much cloud cover the first night, but I did manage it in a five minute window on Thursday. You can sky watch for it until 4th April. Plug in your location and they will direct you from https://spotthestation.nasa.gov/.
Irish Earth to Space Station 26th March 2020 It was a streak, like a comet. It was a blip. There. Then gone. So my friend reported from her own viewing platform in another country. A crescent moon with Venus flirting over Her shoulder. Eyes bisected vectors of horizon, West, south, east, northeast. Then. There. In the newly darkened sky a steady blinking, an elliptical swirling, a lumbering quasar moving inexorably in Enniskillen’s direction, an elephant patrolling earth, crossing borders in air space. No. Make that outer space, the final frontier. Wave to those pioneers. We salute you, space sailors. Imagine up there if you can all those waves to you from a distance, before you disappear behind the cloud cover. We are waving to you in your isolation from our own. Copyright ©Bee Smith, 2020. All rights reserved.
Another bit of eye candy before the next poem…
Pocket A river pebble. A small cowrie shell. A lock of baby hair tied up with silk ribbon. An acorn found, picked with foraged morel, in among crumbs of broken chocolate bourbons. A shiny penny piece of change to spare, a bit of luck to give up when the hat’s passed round. All this collection could be anywhere, but they are soundlessly secure in their clothbound world. A pocket. Talismans. Amulets more valuable than a leather wallet. Don’t let anyone pickpocket your joy. Jingle your happiness like a carefree schoolboy. Copyright © Bee Smith, 2020. All rights reserved.
Look out for haiku during the week with Word Alchemy on Instagram. Check in here, too. You never know what might turn up…