Silenced Fires

I’m with her from moonrise to sunset, from lost to not yet found—listening, plotting, feeling every word and world that darkens the ink in her veins. When July reaches its lustiest, when leaves are green and birds gaudy, when she craves the cooling touch of water and dirt, I fill her head and hips with burning tales, and I wait… for her fingers to spell my wilds real. We sing much out of the heat, before the chill chants of change.

Autumn dressed
the lake reddish gold,
silenced fires.
In her heart, summer-
crafted stories fade.

.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

41 thoughts on “Silenced Fires

  1. This is the heart of Japanese style with the patented Magaly-style kiss. The colors and feeling of the delight of summer are all there. And so is the melancholy of autumn there, even while admiring it’s beauty.

  2. “I wait… for her fingers to spell my wilds real.” My experience–we never sing alone, and when one earth/voice/season fades, it is a cross fade and we’re not quite reading the new wilds yet.

  3. I love your haibun, Magaly, especially: ‘I fill her head and hips with burning tales, and I wait… for her fingers to spell my wilds real’; ‘the chill chants of change’; and the autumn tanka.

  4. Exquisite! Blissful…a gorgeous-riveting read for my hungry soul! Deep thanks for spinning up my world with your magical poetry!!

    I am catching up on your posts( with my tea in hand!) and feasting on more of your beautiful works….wowness…deep thanks for the beauty you share..and are!
    have a magical night
    V

  5. This writing familiar, this muse, a penumbra between witchy night and dark words, infilling & inflaming, never captured or fully explained: Tend to her carefully and with abandon!

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