September 30: Downpour

Together again

we linger late in bed

listening to the rain.

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September 29: Leaving Monhegan

Was it a dream?

Island recedes behind me,

vanishes in the fog.

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September 28: Lunar Eclipse

lunar eclipse: on island

shooting the red moon

drunk on autumn stars

 

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September 27: Blame it on the moon

Is it the full moon

making me so restless?

The sea too stirs and sighs.

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September 26: Full

under this full moon

apples ripen

birds dream of the jungle

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September 25: Sunset celebration

cannon fired at sunset

scares up all the harbor gulls

their wings glowing

 

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September 24: Maiden flight

With maternal feeling

we watch for hours

until the new Monarch flies.

 

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September 23: Goddess worship

Venus still shines brightly

above the morning mist--

love remains with us.

Bonus poem for the equinox:

Autumnal equinox--

hiking trail #6

finding balance.

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September 22: The sea's a metronome

Despite the chill

I keep my window open

so waves lull me to sleep.

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September 21: Morning Star

bright goddess Venus

Orion bows before her

my faith is renewed

 

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September 20: Monarch chrysalis

Small green chrysalis

hanging off the window frame--

there's hope for us yet.

Monarch caterpillar

 

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September 19: Night bells

Buoy bell ringing

in the heavenly temple

of ocean and stars.

 

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September 18: Monhegan: Butterflies

Butterflies lift off

of every patch of flowers--

yes, I remember.

 

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September 17: Sounds like spring

End of summer--

in the backyard

phoebe calling again.

 

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September 16: Early morning, sound of feathers

I hear wings flapping

but fall back asleep

too tired yet for the divine.

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September 15: Just before dawn

Just before dawn

a single crow caws--

I'm not the only one awake.

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September 14: On the trail

That feeling of freedom

and ferns for toilet paper--

peeing in the woods.

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September 13: Translation

I spent this rainy afternoon working through a book I bought in Quebec City: a French translation of Japanese haiku by contemporary poet Mayuzumi Madoka. The book is arranged in four seasonal sections, with each haiku and its explication by the author on facing pages. I read through Spring and into Summer, fascinated by the nexus of several languages: the original Japanese, the French translation, my attempt to piece it together in English, and the universal poetic sensibility, which renders a good poem timeless in any language. It feels like a good exercise to play with words, image, and feelings in this way; I found myself longing for a retreat to submerge myself in this world for several days to see what might come out of it for my own poetry.

 

Here is my halting translation of one of her spring haiku:

 

Amplified

by the toll of the temple bell--

this spring twilight.

__

 

Rainy afternoon--

I can almost hear the fog horn

or a temple bell.

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September 12: The world is new

I awake to crows

telling loud eagle stories--

first light on the ash.

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September 11: Night light

This is a small town, but even here, living as we do across from a street light, we rarely get to fully appreciate the night sky in all its starry glory. So after dinner with friends who live on a farm out in the country, it was such a thrill to look up on the way to the car and enjoy such a wide, clear view of the night's stars.

 

Night sky above a dirt road--

we pick out Polaris,

now it all makes sense.

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September 10: Skunk hour

In the redolent dark

soccer ball on the lawn becomes

so easily a skunk

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September 9: River nocturne

Dusk on the river--

goldfinches finish chatting

--was that a peeper?

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September 8: Wren

We hear the wren

after a summer's absence--

voice of an old friend.

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September 7: Birds on our holiday drive

Over the harbor, eagle;

one farmhouse bluebird;

geese in the pasture.

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September 6: Trying to grow hot peppers

If we're lucky

we might get one chili pepper

from our single plant.

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September 5: Crickets

river flowing low and dry

slow ticking of insects

counts down the days

 

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September 4: On the water

Slow sail past Mark Island--

red buoy, curious seal,

harbor we don't reach.

 

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September 3: Visitor

End-of-summer garden--

it's a new world

to the young yellowthroat.

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September 2: Nighthawks

On my drive home from Quebec this afternoon I noticed several nighthawks flitting overhead, diurnal migrants heading south.

 

Driving south, homeward,

following the nighthawks' path

along the river.

 

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September 1: Les Fraises

Rural, farm-covered L'Ile D'Orleans in the St. Laurence River is the farm basket of Quebec. Strawberries are one of the specialties, with two seasons: summer and fall. After visiting L'Ile D'Orleans today, I checked out the permanent farmers' market near the Old Port Quebec, where I bought a cup of fresh strawberries and ate them on the spot. They tasted of summer, even as the season begins to turn to fall.

 

Strange to start September

here in Canada

with farm-fresh strawberries.

 

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