Laughter of October

Laughter of October

Mirth at sunset:
herons scream like children
in the shallows,
golden shafts of light
play with the shadows
of auburn leaves —

Come to me,
stay awhile,
for the laughter of October
is upon my face,
a golden glow,
a raging fire that hides
in the Indian summers
of my heart.

D. G. Vachal © 2012, 2014

Image by digital2 @flickr commons

October Cold Comes: Love Haiku 22:24

22

time raged like a storm
thoughts of you erased by winds,
drowned by high waters

23

leaves blush, turn crimson
others in golden splendor
you behold my face

24

October cold comes
mauve chrysanthemums blossom
warm my hand with yours


D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by ignartonosbg @pixabay

My Father and the Jasmine Flowers

My Father and the Jasmine Flowers

street waifs
stringing white flowers
into long, fragrant necklaces,
plucked them from the sky
shook them from the tall green bushes
until they fell like rain upon the grass —-
 
jasmine necklaces sold
for devout señoras to wear
at Flores de Mayo processions
five centavos for all that work,
three
if señoras haggled long enough —-

were you one of the little ones
hands baked by the sun,
wide-eyed,
barefoot,
hungry?

how time comes and leaves
so swiftly
as in half a breath,
as in a hurried dream,
and for whatever
reason there may have been
I came to be —-

older folks would tell me
you walked miles to school,
no centavos for a ride,
and your classmates laughed and sneered
as they rode the bus and passed you by,
you walked on
carrying your dreams 
in your heart.

how time comes and leaves
so swiftly
as in half a breath,
as in a hurried dream,
and you are gone —-

tonight
as I recall the tales of folks
from long ago
I drench my pillow
with the fragrant tears
of white jasmine flowers
through the midnight hours,
into the break of dawn.

D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by Oom Endro @ Pixabay

Beyond the Forgetting

Beyond the Forgetting

Under the waning moon
and buried light
of forgotten sunsets
stealthy diamonds gleam
in the nebulous sky
but the heart of darkness
roams blind and wild
drowned in flashbacks
of furtive flesh-cuttings
from silent sword slashes —

I dare not ask
nor should you —

beyond the forgetting
billows of white-capped
waves return
birthed
by the half-lit moon.

D. G. Vachal © 2024

When September Comes – Love Haiku 19:21

When September Comes

19

when September comes
blown by the winds of absence
palpable your hands

20

lost fragrant blossoms
crisp crimson harvest draws near
your warmth, the rainbow

21

when cools the twilight
music of lavender mist
almost you are near.


D. G. Vachal © 2024

Image by John Nature Photo @Pixabay