Fresh butter cookies
Just imagine their sweet scent
Warm from the oven
Lost memories of grandma
Were brought back with her kind smile
Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 168 Sweet / Scent
Our quilting party
Patchwork of mixed memories
Loves tattered bits of fabric
Zigzag schemes of mingled souls
Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 160 Party/Enjoy
Dusty gravel roads
Near swaths of ripening wheat
-Father’s furrowed brow
I think of my father, especially when I am trying to solve a problem that requires some patience. When all seems lost, I think back to my days on the farm, remembering the endless chores and the way my father attacked them day after day after day. Dad’s stoic acceptance of running a small farm with old equipment held together with bailing wire and cardboard gaskets, in a weather cycle that didn’t produce enough rain to parch the sandy soil, taught me that even in a losing effort there are battles to be won.
Though our family gardens were doomed to be raided by the neighbor’s pigs and the Massey Harris combine and the old John Deere tractor were unwilling farm servants, dad always found ways to persevere. Even when most sane men would throw in the towel, his stubborn Midwestern will would drive him through the crisis.
I remember lots of happy times too. Noon-time meals with the entire family sitting down to meat and potatoes, covered in gravy served with Mom’s fresh white bread on a plate in the middle of the table. I loved hearing his lunch time dreams of tomorrow, when the next harvest would run over our bins.
I remember him during those times of joy and sadness and wish I could stand near him again to walk in those fields of Dakota. Even though Dad rests in peace, I just wanted to say just one more time, Happy Fathers’ Day dad; I love you this much.
Ice-covered memories of time
Served with a beverage and lime
Savored images, left swirling about
Intoxicating moments that never turned out.
Weary night-time travelers,
Headlights on snow packed roads.
Drive past cold farmer’s fields,
Faintly lit by northern sky.
Called home by bits of memories,
Warm feelings held deep inside.
Hoping to recapture.
Scenes of what used to be.
Patchworks of old memories
Stitched together in dreams
Candles placed by windows,
Visible from so far away.
Beacons of wishes,
Cast on starry nights.
Crying out to loved ones,
-Come home for the night.
If only it were yesteryear,
I’m sure we’d all be there.
But time has come between us
And some are no longer here.
We hold to dreams that bring us cheer,
And drive away those past-midnight fears
Recollections of special holidays,
That stretch across the years.
“Ormsby – Little town with big streets!”
Ronovan’s Haiku Challenge 125– Gold/Sing
The Town of Ormsby has put up its’ Holiday Lights—
Of refrains we use to sing
So long, long, ago
“Ormsby – Packed with Holiday Cheer!”