Come Sail #d’Verse;TuesdayPoetics


Sarah is hosting Tuesday Poetics  this week at the renown pub for poets, d’Verse. I thought I’d left a comment there that said I might be back after hopping in my kayak, but I apparently missed the “post reply” button. I did make it into my kayak, though I didn’t get very far. I combed the marsh and am back with this hybrid haibun:


I am a leaf


pinwheeling down

now spinning on the water

I am sailing across the marsh. I am the sail, catching the wind that keeps changing direction. I am afloat in my kayak, paddle at rest. The kayak succumbs to the restless wind and we are a leaf, spinning on the water, this way, now that. The kayak is a manmade thing, but a natural extension of me, an enabler of me, an empowerer of me, and I dare to dream of being a water strider on the surface of the water. How importantly they skate back and forth, yet so humbly walking on water.

quicksilver bubbles

shimmering galaxies

of water strider stars

The kayak is the long double one, the one with the big payload, the one I use to collect large stones and pieces of driftwood. Its model name is “Stalker” and I am stalking a poem, an elusive quarry lately. The wind pushes me away from the blue heron who is stalking its dinner at the grassy edge of the marsh.

tasseled robe, fog gray

stately sword bearing huntress

marsh’s high priestess

Another wise face greets me as I drift towards the turtled shore. Thin black lips, yellow cheeks, white throat— the green frog is all the colors of the marsh, all the colors he needs to be. Because I do not paddle, because I am a leaf on the water’s surface, the frog remains unworried. I wonder if this is the frog I hear when I slow enough to listen.

frog’s primal thrum

echoes in my chest

Heart. Heart. Heart.

our nightly poem

I am one leaf twirling on the water. Millions more continue to sing and sway above, and on the surface of the water, and below the surface; for watery surfaces are mirrors, are portals. It is disorienting. Yet somehow these watery inversions are grounding.

I pick up the paddle finally and return, glad to have seen these things, but without the poem I’d sought. Just another evening in a kayak on the lake. I make my way back across the marsh.

pond lilies bloom

moons floating on water sky

saucered lanterns glowing


37 thoughts on “Come Sail #d’Verse;TuesdayPoetics

  1. “just another evening in a kayak on the lake…” Yeah, I don’t think so.
    This is magic through and through. Absolutely haibunilicious, especially that closing haiku.

    I was there with you; and that’s all anyone can ask. Heart, heart, heart. You got it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Such a stream of consciousness of water imagery and those drawn to the water. This is very calming read, D. I’ve never been in a kayak but they’ve jumped in popularity around here these past few years. Lots of places to kayak but fear of flipping under has kept me from trying one.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Kayaks are not so flippy as you think, more stable than a canoe, most of them, in my opinion and experience. You’d be very comfortable on a sit on top I bet. I like mine way more than I thought I would and it’s so easy!
      Thank you for your kind comments, I wasn’t sure about whatever this is but let it fly anyway. Or sail… float, I floated it.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks for the tips and info on kayaks. One of these days! When we used to sail the kayakers (if that’s the right term) would travel the shore of the lake and at night they would be so stealthy. Looks like a great way to experience the water. Your poem definitely floated 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I think you stalked and nailed that poem. Or maybe drifted into it and let it take you where it wanted. What a beautiful piece – kayaks are such an ancient way of travelling on water – even though nowadays they can be so hi-tech. I really felt your closeness to the water and the life there. Wonderful write, thank you so much for letting me travel with you.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “marsh’s high priestess” … I love that.

    Also these:

    “Thin black lips, yellow cheeks, white throat— the green frog is all the colors of the marsh, all the colors he needs to be.”

    “frog’s primal thrum
    echoes in my chest
    Heart. Heart. Heart.
    our nightly poem” … That is AWESOME.

    Liked by 1 person

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