The last week in August has arrived, Poets, and change is in the air Frank Tassone, here, your host for another Haibun Monday, in which we blend prose and poetry in Basho’s famed Japanese form. This week, let’s talk about seasonal shifts.

Last week in my corner of New York’s backyard, the temperatures were in the 70s Fahrenheit. Mira and I remarked about how it felt like Fall. I remember the Vermont vacations we took for years when our son was young. That mountain air already had an Autumn quality.

There are other indicators that the seasons are shifting. I saw the first flock of geese migrating. Fewer songbirds remain. The first oak leaves have fallen. A week from this Monday is Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer.

& New York City & State students and teachers return to school the day after.

Sure, the temperature is back in the 80s this coming week, but they’ll fall again by the middle of next week. & if these signs aren’t enough, My Starbucks app sent me that notification many Java aficionados long for at this time of year: “PSL   PSL   PSL   PSL   PSL PSL PSL”

When the Pumpkin Spice Latte returns, Autumn arrives!

Of course, south of the Equator, I imagine this time of year marks a shift from winter to Spring. Likewise, some experience their seasonal shifts in their own times, as some haijin and poets have remarked:

Adelaide B. Shaw

A SEASONAL CHANGE

A fine Saturday in October. Just enough chill in the air to feel the season. It’s time to clear the yard of summer. Some potted plants to take indoors, others to toss. The hose, hammock and patio chairs to the cellar; the bird feeders to get from the garage and hang, one on the maple, the other on the lilac bush. By noon, the chores are completed.

the warming sun—
an earwig wiggles
its antennae

Courtesy of Contemporary Haibun Online 1.3 December 2005

Autumn Movement

Carl Sandburg 1878 –1967

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,

       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things

       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,

       not one lasts.

(This poem is in the public domain.)

Courtesy of the American Academy of Poets

Wherever you are, & however you’re inspired, savor the seasonal shift most relevant to you. Then write a haibun that alludes to seasonal shift as you see it.

New to haibun? The form consists of one to a few paragraphs of prose—usually written in the present tense—that evoke an experience and are often non-fictional/autobiographical. They may be preceded or followed by one or more haiku—nature-based, using a seasonal image—that complement without directly repeating what the prose stated.

New to dVerse? Here is what you do:

• Write a haibun that alludes to seasonal shift.
• Post it on your personal site/blog.
• Include a link back to dVerse in your post.
• Copy your link onto the Mr. Linky.
• Remember to click the small checkbox about data protection.
• Read and comment on some of your fellow poets’ work.
• Like and leave a comment below if you choose to do so.
• Have fun!