Last fall, we planted three small pine trees in our yard. The one in the front of our house promptly passed away. I even wrote a haiku about it.
The two that flanked the steps of our deck didn’t lose their needles but I wasn’t confident that I hadn’t managed to kill them. I was delighted when soft green needles began to appear on one of them this spring. On the other one, however, were weird brown bumps. Don’t ask how long it took me to realize those were pine cones to be.
Pine cones. Cones not combs.
You’re probably thinking, “Well, of course not combs. Everyone knows that. That’s why they are called conifers.”
Well, I forgot that when, standing in our backyard one evening last month, I noticed that all the spider webs under our deck had caught the white fluff from the nearby cottonwood trees.
Hmm, I thought. The cobwebs are dressed in cottonwood.
I found that phrase to be quite lovely. When I counted the syllables and came up with seven, I thought I had finally found the start to my very first asefru.
Nope. Not so much. Because I couldn’t figure out where to go with the phrase next using only five syllables and rhyming with wood.
Since I had come up with the phrase by observing nature, I decided it could be the second line of a haiku. I set myself to more observing. There were all the weeds under the deck. Nah. There was Philip’s empty blue plastic pool. Nuh-uh. There was the now-empty robin’s nest built on one of the braces.
Five syllables down, five to go.
That’s when I looked at the little pine tree again. It inspired this haiku entitled “the cusp of summer“:
pine combs – only buds
cobwebs dressed in cottonwood
vacant robin’s nest
I was quite pleased with myself. I loved all those b sounds in the poem. I entered it in that week’s yeah write fiction|poetry challenge and waited for the votes to roll in.
Nate, one of the yeah write editors and a previously featured blogger as a “Comment of the Month,” wrote the following: