Haiku #94

leaf sitting aloft
stray winds might steal it away
new, horrid freedom

the_last_leaf_on_a_dying_tree_by_simonvelazquezart-d3int26

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Five

In moon-lit, sparkling snow which covers ground
The tracks of snowshoes shuffling through the wood
Canoe ashore by tighten’d tether bound
In peaceful silence, night sleeps as it should
With wisps of dream a-light in nestled minds
The daylight’s fauna seek the sandman’s spell
Nocturnal beasts, they brave the dark to find
Escape from that which forays forth from Hell
A nightmare monster bent on blood and pain
Who stalks the land of whispers locked in snow
And leaves in wake a trail of scattered slain
And paints perfume of death on winds that blow
Before the sun returns safety with light
Wendigo is the one who owns the night

Two

The cabin’s walls were strong, just like the man
Who with the boy, canoe and gear in tow,
Would make a weekend home upon the land
And sleep at night ‘neath star and moon and crow
Outside the wind sang high amid the cold
While inside walls the fire burned on bright
And when the son requests a story told
The tale unfolded chills him through the night
For ages, fear has dwelt in forest deep
From tribe to tribe a demon’s name is known
Into the hearts and minds of folk will creep
Until one shakes with fright to be alone
If one should ever dare utter a breath
Wendigo is the name which brings us death

The Story of the Wendigo

The boy’s father was a strong, hard but kind man named Joseph, who built the cabin over ten years ago with his father and brothers. The last shingle was nailed to the cabin’s roof shortly before the boy, whose name was Michael, was born, and Michael’s sister Amber was two years old. Joseph built the cabin for hunting, fishing, and trapping. It sat amongst the pines along the shore of the lake, a full three hours drive outside of town. In the summer, Joseph and his friends and later his wife and family would stay at the cabin for days at a time. Continue reading

sniper attack

how horrific would it be, think I
to see a man fall dead before you
a hole, dark and bleeding, in his chest
all of a sudden

no sound
so strike

welcome to a sniper attack
the time when we all run
for our lives
in fear of the unknown
the nameless, the soundless
fury
reigning down from
God knows where
and, in time, we hope
that back and white
will wash away the pain
of this moment