6h Vicki
Donna Jones

Soft ivory clouds
Flowing delicately sweetly
On this winters day

I bought my wedding dresss today I can't stop smiling , so am inspired to share my haiku with you all :)
  8h Vicki
Woody

My dreams are
darker than the holler
on a moonless night
and deeper
than the water
in the creek that flows
so cold
inside of me

I need that girl
from Doe Valley
the one called Sally
that I used to see
along the road
the other side
of Iron Mountain
to lie warm beside of me

The one who made me smile
for a little while
and kissed me on my lips
when her Pop was on a trip
selling his crops
while her Mom shopped
over in Mountain City

But those days are gone
and the holler's still long
and dark most nights
when the creek is quiet
and the cold cuts through
my coat when the moon
forgets to shine on Doe Valley.

You stand in a field of dandelions and see weeds
But I stand there with you and see a field of dreams

  13h Vicki
Palmer

Walking
The
Rocky
Beachside
With
Your
Hand
In
Mine
Searching
Intently
For
The
Wave
Worn
Shards
Of
Glass
Smoothed
By
The
Ocean­
Into
Hearts

Beach Combing for mermaid hearts

perhaps a mirage is a dangling carrot
to keep us ever-seeking

perhaps our bodies are the freedom clothes
for our souls

and perhaps our sanity,
isn’t

sane at all
but a fata morgana

science has proven
the moon to be a

bell ---
hollow and resonant

for hours ---
a seismic anomaly

which sounds
when hit

perhaps science
is the fata morgana

and we are sane
after all


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Vicki 3d

on a dark ridge he crossed
paths with her little camp,
one small goat, an old horse

and a fire tamped low:
she'd gone hunting
in the gently falling snow.

as she approached home
empty-handed, she saw him
standing with an expression

dazed, his butternut
gray uniform blood-stained
down his left leg.

he didn't fight the old woman
putting him to bed
inside her little covered

wagon, and while he slept
she chopped wood, kept
building the fire higher, a pot

glowing filled with water
and wild onions, ginger,
some foxtail and salt.

when he awoke she dressed
his wound from a grazing bullet,
his eyes barely focused

when she sat and pet the goat,
talking in gentle low tones
while slyly slitting

the animal's throat,
her voice pausing.
she gave a kiss to its forehead,

let it slump and began to prepare
the meat.  his eyes met hers.
"hush," she said. "sleep."

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