Haiku Autumn

.:|:|:|:.
cross amber hills
awandering
this rocky road

Fall winds
bring a hard rain
of acorns

in the fell wood
lifeless branches creak
a murder of crows

Indian Summer

.
amber winds brush
cross the prairie
Indian Summer

prairie wind

.
late summer prairie
the harrier hangs on
a washed sky

the Old Man

.

the river
bloated with mud‘n sorrow
looses it bounds

.   

 
.

the red water
waves lap against
a bedroom door

roar & boom

o

moon rise
over the fire
the bullbat roar

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day’s up
down along the river here
nighthawks boom

o

Memories

.
he thinks of
his dead wife's hands
another EKG

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slicing peaches
to preserve
summer vacation
.

August

the hot night
naked in bed tempted by
distant thunder

drifting

her silhouette with
each breath of wind
fragrant moonlight

every morning

oblivious to
the tragedy she jogs through
a stain of blood

dawn

nearing dawn
a slow breeze cools
blood from the wreck

desert

night streams past
this pool of light
a moonless desert highway

Dionysius the Younger

no horse hair
suspends the golden sword
a simple meal

dusk

summer's dusk
evening falls into
the rising tide

Our History

The night of November 26, 1868, Black Kettle, a peace Chief of the Southern Cheyenne having heard that Army cavalry were in the vicinity had decided to move his winter encampment closer to the other villages camped along the Washita valley in western Oklahoma. At dawn on the 27th, (the fourth Thursday in November) four battalions – about 700 soldiers – of the 7th U.S. Cavalry under the command of Lt. Col. George Custer attacked the snow bound village. The number of Cheyenne casualties reported ranges from the 300 later claimed by Custer to only 13 described by the Indian captives. Black Kettle and his wife Medicine Woman were killed. Numerous other women and children were killed and captured to use as human shields during Custer’s return to Fort Supply.

http://www.nps.gov/archive/waba/home.htm

http://digital.library.okstate.edu/encyclopedia/entries/W/WA037.html 

November winds still carry
the sound of battle
on the Washita

along the Washita
sand plums fruit where the children
and women died

lingering voices

fading

daybreak
the slow fade of
emergency sirens

night walking

night a foot
in chase through the pines
the quarter moon

next door

a noon garden
the neighbor's bulldog
still snoring

& 9

the endless rattle
these one hundred bones
‘round the well of time

fields of gold

grandmother's ghost